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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 5 months

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Hi! I just stumbled upon your profile when I was searching for jonathan crane x reader fics, and can I just say that I loved Behind The Mask so so much! Would it be possible to request a fic Jonathan x reader that is inspired by You are the right one by Sports? If so, thank you so much! 💕✨

You Are The Right One - Jonathan Crane x Reader ONESHOT

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 8016

Warnings: High School!Jonathan Crane, bullying

Summary: !!Request!! High school was a cesspool of misery for Jonathan. After the cruel prank from his crush and biggest bully, he believed his days would be forever marred by the shadows of ridicule and isolation. Until a beacon of light emerged in the form of one girl who reached out with a helping hand.

A/N: (This gif does not match the vibe whatsoever, but oh well!) Bro, I had never heard this song before, but the second I listened to it AHAHHAH!!! the way this song tingles my brain~ chefs kiss. Thank you so much Anon for introducing this song to me 💚 While writing this fic, I really got into the comic book Jonathan, so the whole time writing this, instead of picturing Cillian Murphy, my brain went off and thought about the lanky ginger Jonathan from the comics...smash. This doesn't really affect how you read it or anything, I don't bring up his appearance (I think) but yeah, fun fact! Thank you so much for the request, Anon, I hope you like it and I hope everyone else likes it as well 💚

"Hey! Scarecrow!" The jeering shout pierced the air before a rotten pumpkin collided with Jonathan's head.

With a jolt, he crashed onto the unforgiving concrete, the impact scraping his knees raw and sending his glasses tumbling from his face. Laughter and mocking taunts echoed from the other side of the street, adding insult to injury. Wiping the slimy remnants of pumpkin from his face, Jonathan retrieved his glasses from the ground and carefully replaced them, picking himself off the floor and rushing to his house.

Jonathan hated his time at school, not due to its academic challenges, they were a mere breeze to him. It was the individuals within the school walls who soured his experience. Each day seemed to bring a fresh onslaught of taunts, shoves, and the relentless pursuit to make him feel small. It was an existence he loathed.

Bo Gribbs stood out as the ringleader of torment, his cruelty unmatched by any other. Jonathan couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve such relentless bullying from Bo, but he found himself powerless to retaliate. Physically overpowered and painfully aware of his own frailty, Jonathan's slender frame seemed almost translucent beneath his clothing, a stark testament to his vulnerability in the face of Bo's tyranny.

Yet, even within the supposed sanctuary of his supposed home, peace was still not found for him. If he managed to escape the torment of school, he found himself ensnared in the clutches of his eccentric great-grandmother, whose own torture made every moment a living hell. The irony of her religious fervor contrasted against her treatment of him was not lost on Jonathan.

Though Jonathan's existence felt like a descent into inferno, he clung to the belief that it was merely a chapter in his life, not the entire story. Determined to carve out a brighter future for himself. He vowed to end the torment, one way or another.

Walking through the corridors proved to be a difficult journey for Jonathan, each step fraught with the anticipation of another cruel encounter. As he traversed the halls, barely two minutes had passed before a forceful shove sent him careening forward, his body meeting the cold embrace of the linoleum floor. His knees, accustomed to such harsh treatment, absorbed the impact with resigned familiarity.

The clatter of his glasses hitting the ground echoed amidst the cacophony of jeers from passing jocks, their laughter cutting through the air like a serrated blade. With a heavy sigh, Jonathan reached out, his fingers fumbling as they sought the familiar frames now lying abandoned on the floor.

To add insult to injury, the contents of his binder lay strewn across the corridor in a chaotic array of papers and notebooks. With a resigned sense of foreboding, Jonathan began the arduous task of gathering his scattered belongings, readying himself for the inevitable shit day that lay ahead.

Amidst the din of the bustling hallway, the sound of approaching footsteps caught Jonathan's attention, his heart sinking as he braced for yet another harsh confrontation. However, what he beheld was not the expected boot poised for a strike, but rather a figure, a girl, crouched beside him, her hands reaching out to aid in gathering the scattered papers.

Stunned into silence, Jonathan could only watch in disbelief as the girl worked alongside him, her actions a stark contrast to the hostility he had come to expect. Caught in a moment of bewildered confusion, he found himself unable to move, his mind reeling with questions. What was she doing? Was she helping him?

As Jonathan's mind struggled to catch up with the whirlwind of events, he watched in astonishment as the girl collected the scattered papers, her movements somehow appearing graceful. With each piece she retrieved, she seemed to breathe life into the crap that had enveloped his world just moments before. As she stacked the papers before him, Jonathan couldn't help but marvel at the dexterity of her fingers, a stark contrast to the clumsy awkwardness he felt coursing through his own limbs.

When she finally glanced up, her face illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the corridor, Jonathan found himself momentarily transfixed by the sight before him. The delicate curve of her jawline, the softness of her features, and the warmth in her eyes sent a flutter through his chest, igniting a blush that crept up his cheeks. It had been an eternity since he had been in such close proximity to a girl, let alone one this attrative.

Despite the pounding of his heart and the flush of embarrassment that suffused his face, Jonathan couldn't help but brace himself for the anticipated rejection and humiliation. Yet, to his astonishment, the girl's expression remained neutral, devoid of the revulsion he had come to expect from others.

In that fleeting moment, as their eyes met, Jonathan felt a spark of hope ignite within him, a glimmer of possibility amidst the darkness of his reality.

"I'm not sure they're in order, sorry," she offered apologetically, handing the papers over to him.

Jonathan's mind raced, struggling to process the flood of emotions and sensations crashing over him like waves against a rocky shore. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words emerged, his voice lost amidst the thoughts within him. His cheeks burned with a fierce blush, the heat spreading across his skin like wildfire as he fought to steady his erratic breaths.

Despite the turmoil raging within him, Jonathan found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the girl before him. Every delicate movement, every subtle shift in her demeanor, captivated his attention like a mesmerizing dance. He watched as she nervously nibbled on her lower lip, her brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

A pang of self-reproach stabbed at Jonathan's heart as he cursed his own awkwardness, berating himself for his inability to ease the tension that hung thick in the air. He longed to reach out, to offer some semblance of reassurance, but the weight of his own insecurities held him captive, shackling him in silence.

In the midst of his internal turmoil, Jonathan couldn't help but wonder if he was the cause of the girl's discomfort. Was it his presence alone that had driven her to such nervous agitation? The thought only served to deepen his sense of self-condemnation, a bitter reminder of his own inadequacy in the face of this unexpected encounter.

Taking the papers from her outstretched hand, Jonathan murmured a barely audible "thank you," his eyes remaining fixed on the ground.

"It's okay," she reassured softly, straightening up.

As Jonathan remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixated on the ground, he felt a sense of regret wash over him as he watched the girl gracefully rise to her feet. Every movement seemed to unfold in slow motion, each subtle shift of her body conveying a depth of emotion that left Jonathan feeling utterly captivated.

The soft rustle of fabric as she straightened her posture, the delicate sway of her hair as she lifted her head, every detail etched itself into Jonathan's memory like a scene from a cherished dream. He longed to reach out, to capture this fleeting moment before it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, but the weight of his own insecurities held him firmly in place.

As she turned to leave, the sound of her footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, each step a somber reminder of the distance that now lay between them. Jonathan listened intently, the rhythmic sound of her footfalls fading into the silence like a whispered promise lost to the wind.

Only when she was finally out of sight did Jonathan dare to lift his gaze, his eyes scanning the empty space where she had stood mere moments before. The memory of her presence lingered like an echo in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the connection he had felt, however fleeting it may have been.

As the final bell reverberated through the hallways, signaling the end of lunch and the impending arrival of the last period, Jonathan's thoughts were consumed by the memory of the girl he had crossed paths with that very morning. Her image lingered in his mind like a vivid dream, each detail etched into his consciousness with a clarity that was exhilarating and mildly disturbing.

The mere thought of her sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could almost feel the weight of her gaze, piercing through the veil of his thoughts, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

This crush felt different, unlike any he had experienced before. It wasn't merely a passing fancy or a fleeting attraction. It was a connection that transcended the boundaries of mere physical appearance. There was an ineffable quality about her, a magnetic allure that beckoned him closer with each passing moment.

As he gazed out into the tranquil expanse before him, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that destiny had intervened, weaving their paths together. And in that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the afternoon, he allowed himself to entertain the tantalizing possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, this encounter was the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

It may have seemed naive, even foolish, to harbor such aspirations, but for Jonathan, it was a rare moment of respite in an otherwise shitty landscape. To entertain the notion that perhaps, just perhaps, the universe held something extraordinary in store for him was a welcome change.

Jonathan’s previous crushes seemed like nothing compared to the emotions that stirred by his encounter with the mysterious girl that morning. Recollections of past crushes, like shards of fragmented glass, pricked at his consciousness, reminding him of the superficiality that had defined those fleeting attractions.

Sherry, with her beauty and captivating presence, had been the subject of Jonathan's affections not so long ago. Yet, his admiration for her had always been tempered by the harsh reality of her social circle. Despite the allure of her charm, Jonathan found himself relegated to the sidelines, but he knew he could never have anyone like her anyway.

But it wasn't just Sherry's group that posed a barrier to Jonathan's desires, it was her association with Bo Gribbs, the boy that tormented him every day. Bo's looming presence, like a dark cloud on the horizon, served as a constant reminder of the toxicity that permeated Sherry's world. And yet, despite the danger that lurked beneath the surface, Jonathan remained steadfast in his pursuit, blind to the warning signs that whispered caution in the wind.

It wasn't until Sherry played a cruel prank on him, a twisted joke that left him humiliated and vulnerable, that Jonathan's rose-tinted glasses were shattered, revealing the harsh truth that had eluded him for so long. The sting of betrayal, like a venomous serpent coiled within his heart, forced him to confront the reality of his situation, a reality where he made judgement off appearance alone.

As he reflected on the events of that fateful night, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the time wasted chasing after hollow dreams. But amidst the ashes of his past disappointments, a flicker of hope ignited within him, a hope born from the promise of a new beginning, forged in the fires of his encounter with the mysterious girl who had captured his heart with a single glance and kind gesture.

This girl, she was unlike anyone Jonathan had ever encountered before. Every detail of her presence seemed to exude an air of kindess, something that he didn’t experience often.

It wasn't just her appearance that set her apart, it was the way she carried herself, with a confidence that bordered on defiance, as if daring the world to unravel the enigma of her being. There was an undeniable magnetism about her, an intangible quality that drew Jonathan in like a moth to a flame.

And for the first time in his life, Jonathan dared to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for something more than mere admiration from afar. He allowed himself to entertain the possibility of forging a connection with this stranger.

As Jonathan settled into his usual seat at the front of the classroom, he arranged his books on the desk before him. The desks were arranged in pairs, accommodating two students each, yet Jonathan found himself occupying his table alone, a solitude he had grown accustomed to and even appreciated.

The rest of the class filtered in, taking their usual places. But just as the bell signaled the start of class, the door creaked open to reveal a newcomer, a sight that caused Jonathan's heart to skip a beat. Like a vision materializing, she stepped into the room, the girl who had occupied Jonathan's thoughts since the start of the day.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Jonathan's eyes traced her every movement, drinking in the graceful sway of her stride, the subtle tilt of her head as she looked around at the desks before her. It was as if the very essence of her presence infused the room with a palpable energy, setting Jonathan's heart ablaze with a flurry of emotions he struggled to contain.

What was she doing here, in his classroom, when she wasn't supposed to be? The question echoed through Jonathan's mind like a mantra, a puzzle he couldn't quite unravel.

As she cast her gaze about the room, seeking out an empty seat, Jonathan's breath caught in his throat, a knot of anticipation tightening in his chest. And then, as if guided by some unseen force, her eyes landed on the spot beside him before drifting up to his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips like a secret shared between them.

The rush of heat that flooded Jonathan's cheeks was as sudden and unexpected as a summer storm, his pulse quickening with a fervor that threatened to overwhelm him. It was a moment suspended in time, a collision of worlds that left Jonathan reeling in disbelief.

He sat there, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a drum echoing in the hollows of his chest. Every nerve in his body seemed to hum with electricity as he watched her draw nearer, her presence casting a spell upon him that left him breathless with anticipation. It was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl, each passing second stretching into eternity.

"May I sit here?" Her voice, like a melody woven from silk and honey, broke through the haze of Jonathan's thoughts, drawing his attention to the question hanging in the air.

Jonathan swallowed hard, the sudden dryness of his throat betraying the ruckus of emotions raging within him. With a shaky nod, he managed to tear his gaze away from her mesmerizing presence, meeting her eyes with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, her voice like a gentle breeze on a summer's eve as she settled into the seat beside him, her movements fluid and graceful.

"I just moved classes," she continued, her tone casual yet tinged with a hint of frustration, "I had a clash with English and Statistics, which messed up my whole timetable."

As she explained the reason for her unexpected presence in his class, Jonathan found himself captivated by the sound of her voice, each word a symphony of warmth and sincerity that washed over him like a soothing balm.

Jonathan drank in her words like a man parched in the desert, his thirst for her presence growing with each passing moment. He wanted nothing more than to listen to her voice for eternity, to lose himself in the melody of her speech.

"I'm Y/n, by the way," she said, turning to look at him with a smile that seemed to illuminate the entire room with its radiance.

"I'm Jo-" Jonathan's words were abruptly cut off by the sharp impact of a book colliding with the back of his head, jolting him out of his trance with a start.

Laughter erupted throughout the classroom, echoing off the walls as Jonathan winced in pain, his hand instinctively flying to the back of his head, fingers curling around the tender spot where the book had struck.

"Holy fuck! Are you okay?" Y/n's voice cut through the chaos, her hand landing gently on his shoulder in a gesture of concern.

Jonathan's breath caught in his throat at the touch, a jolt of electricity coursing through him at the warmth of her hand against his skin. If he weren't in such agonizing pain, he might have choked on his own saliva at the unexpected intimacy of the moment. "I'm fine," he managed to whisper, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

As Y/n leaned in to check on him, neither of them noticed the approach of the culprit responsible for Jonathan's suffering. It wasn't until he spoke that their attention was drawn to him, his smug tone slicing through the air like a knife.

"Sorry, Scarecrow, my hand slipped," Bo said, his voice dripping with malice.

With a heavy thud, Bo's hand landed on Jonathan's back, causing him to flinch and cough in response. Leaning in closer, Bo loomed over Jonathan, his presence like a dark cloud casting a shadow over the room.

"Do you mind?" Y/n's voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade, her gaze locked on Bo with a fierceness that made him falter for a moment.

"Mind what, Y/n? I’m fine, how ‘bout yourself?" Bo retorted, his smirk never faltering, even under the weight of her glare.

"Go be a dick somewhere else," Y/n shot back.

Jonathan's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and admiration as he watched Y/n stand up to Bo, her unwavering determination a stark contrast to the fear and apprehension that had gripped him only moments before.

For a moment, Bo seemed taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness, his usual swagger faltering in the face of her unwavering gaze. But then, with a mocking snort, he straightened up, his smirk morphing into a sneer as he turned his attention back to Jonathan.

"Looks like Scarecrow's got himself a little protector," Bo jeered, his words dripping with contempt.

Ignoring Bo's taunts, Y/n turned back to Jonathan, her expression softening with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and reassuring.

Jonathan couldn't help but nod, a surge of gratitude flooding through him at the genuine concern in her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied.

As the tension in the room began to settle, the teacher cleared their throat, drawing attention to the front of the classroom. With one last glance at Y/n, Jonathan turned his focus to the lesson.

Jonathan felt a gentle tap on his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to find Y/n looking at him with a kind expression.

"Sorry, I never actually caught your name before Bo started being a dick," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of apology.

"Jonathan," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, before turning her attention back to the front of the classroom.

As Jonathan watched her, a warmth spread through his chest, chasing away the lingering discomfort from Bo's earlier antics. In that brief exchange, he felt a connection form.

As Jonathan sat beside Y/n in class, his mind couldn't help but drift back to her. Her presence beside him seemed to fill the air with a quiet warmth, casting a soft glow over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the classroom.

He stole furtive glances in her direction, marveling at the way the sunlight danced in her hair, illuminating strands of gold like a halo. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way her eyes flickered with concentration as she followed along with the lesson, every detail of her being seemed to captivate him in ways he couldn't quite comprehend.

He longed to hear her speak again, to lose himself in the melody of her words and the warmth of her smile. But more than anything, it was the way she made him feel, the sense of comfort and ease that washed over him in her presence. For the first time in a long while, Jonathan felt a glimmer of hope stirring within him, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there was something special blossoming between them.

As the final minutes of class ticked by, Jonathan's attention remained divided between the lesson and the gentle presence of Y/n beside him. He found himself stealing glances at her whenever he could, savoring the fleeting moments of shared proximity.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the period, Jonathan felt a pang of reluctance as he realized their time together was drawing to a close. He began gathering his belongings, his mind already drifting ahead to the remainder of the day.

But before he could make his exit, Y/n turned to him with a smile, her eyes sparkling with warmth and kindness. "Hey, Jonathan," she said softly, "do you mind if I walk with you?"

Jonathan's heart skipped a beat at her words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the prospect of spending more time with her. "I don’t mind," he replied, almost too quickly.

Together, they made their way out of the classroom, the bustling halls alive with the energy of students eager to begin their weekend. As they walked side by side, Jonathan felt a sense of contentment wash over him, grateful for the unexpected situation that had brought them together.

As they stepped out of the building, Y/n cast a fleeting glance behind them before returning her focus to the path ahead. "I just really didn't want Bo to bother you any more than he already has. If you don't want me to walk with you, I totally get that," she said, her voice tinged with concern.

"It's fine... I don't mind," Jonathan replied, his words tinged with a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/n's lips as she looked at him. "Then I'll walk with you," she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity.

As Jonathan processed Y/n's offer, a swirl of conflicting emotions churned within him.

On one hand, he was overwhelmed by a sense of disbelief and wonder that someone as kind and compassionate as Y/n would willingly extend such a gesture of friendship to him. It was a glimmer of light in the darkness of his daily struggles, a ray of hope that pierced through the clouds of uncertainty that hung heavy over his life.

But as he considered the practicalities of the situation, a nagging sense of apprehension gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that allowing Y/n to accompany him all the way to his house would only invite trouble. Grandma Keeny was not one to tolerate such liberties, and Jonathan knew all too well the consequences of crossing her.

With a heavy heart, Jonathan weighed his options. On one hand, he longed for the companionship and warmth that Y/n's presence offered. But on the other, he couldn't bear the thought of subjecting her to the wrath of Grandma Keeny.

In the end, Jonathan found himself at a crossroads, both metaphorically and literally, as they reached an intersection. With a heavy heart, he turned to Y/n, his expression a mixture of gratitude and reluctance.

"I'm going this way," he murmured, the words stumbling awkwardly from his lips.

Y/n's smile faltered slightly at his words, a flicker of confusion dancing in her eyes. "You don't want me to keep walking with you?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to confide in Y/n and the fear of burdening her with his troubles. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head gently.

"It's not that," he began, his voice soft but resolute. "I just don't want to inconvenience you. It's a bit out of the way, and I wouldn't want to make you late home or anything."

Y/n regarded him with a thoughtful expression, her gaze searching his face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. After a moment, she nodded understandingly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Alright then," she said, her tone warm and reassuring. "Just know that the offer still stands if you ever need someone to walk with."

Jonathan felt a surge of gratitude wash over him at her words, a sense of warmth and belonging settling in the pit of his stomach. Though he couldn't bring himself to explain the full extent of his situation, he was grateful for Y/n's understanding and compassion.

With a final nod of thanks, Jonathan watched as Y/n continued on her way, her presence a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone in his struggles.

As Jonathan made his way along the footpath, the memory of Y/n lingered like a gentle breeze, offering a brief respite from the turmoil of his thoughts.

But as he neared his house, the weight of reality came crashing down upon him like a leaden blanket. The giddiness he felt began to wane, replaced by a sense of foreboding dread.

He couldn't bring himself to call it a home, not with the constant cloud of tension that hung heavy in the air. Grandma Keeny's presence loomed over the house like a specter, her disapproving gaze a constant reminder of the hell Jonathan endured within its walls.

With each step closer to the front door, Jonathan's stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety and apprehension. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, there would always be something for Grandma Keeny to find fault with.

But as he steeled himself to face whatever awaited him inside, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, a reminder of the brief moment of solace he had found in Y/n's company. And for that fleeting moment, Jonathan allowed himself to cling to the hope that one day, he would find a place where he truly belonged.

As Jonathan entered the house, the air seemed to thicken with tension, each creak of the floorboards echoing through the house. He braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, steeling his nerves against the onslaught of Grandma Keeny's disapproving scrutiny.

Sure enough, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he was met with the sharp pang of her voice slicing through the silence like a knife. "You're late again, Jonathan," she scolded, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

He hardly needed to glance at the clock to know she made that up. Jonathan bit back a retort, knowing from experience that it would only incite further wrath. Instead, he offered a mumbled apology, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground as he braced himself for the barrage of criticism that was sure to follow.

But to his surprise, Grandma Kenny's response was not as scathing as he had anticipated. "Don't let this happen again," she said curtly, her voice carrying a tone of warning.

Though her words lacked the usual venomous edge, Jonathan still felt the weight of her disapproval bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He nodded silently, knowing better than to provoke further confrontation.

As he retreated to his room. While he was grateful to have escaped unscathed this time, he couldn't shake the feeling that Grandma Keeny's temporary leniency was merely the calm before the storm.

As he settled into bed, the memory of Y/n's kind smile lingered in his mind like a flickering flame in the darkness. It was a reminder that even amidst the chaos and uncertainty, there were moments of warmth and kindness to be found.

But that moment of rest was short-lived. The tranquility shattered as Grandma Kenny's sharp voice pierced through the silence, demanding that he come downstairs to make her a coffee. Jonathan's shoulders sagged as he rolled his eyes, begrudgingly pushing himself off the bed.

Jonathan stood by his locker, the light of the hallway casting shadows across the floor. The low hum of students milling about filled the air, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or snippets of conversation. He slowly grabbed each book from his locker, the scent of aged paper and faint traces of graphite wafting up as he sifted through the contents.

With each item he retrieved, Jonathan's mind wandered, lost in the potential chance of Y/n walking past. He imagined the rhythmic tap of her footsteps echoing down the corridor, the soft rustle of her clothing as she approached. His heart quickened at the thought of her warm smile, the playful glint in her eyes that never failed to captivate him.

In his mind, Jonathan pictured Y/n strolling alongside him to class, their conversation flowing effortlessly as if they had known each other for years. He envisioned himself maintaining composure, staying cool, without the usual nervousness that plagued him in social interactions. Imagining her radiant smile directed up at him, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, hoping to see her.

Sure, he had only met her the day before and their only interactions were brief. Yet, in those fleeting moments, Jonathan felt a something with Y/n that bet any connection he had ever thought he shared with Sherry. The memory of his last crush on Sherry now seemed trivial and shallow in comparison to the depth of feeling he harbored for Y/n, he cringed just thinking about it.

Lost in his imagination, Jonathan nearly missed Y/n's presence walking through the hallway. She was a vision, just as captivating as the day prior. His heart quickened with anticipation, hoping for a fleeting glance from her. Yet, she passed by without so much as a glance in his direction.

Feeling a pang of disappointment, Jonathan turned back to his locker, cursing himself for entertaining such fantasies. He berated his own foolishness, knowing deep down that she wouldn't notice him. As he watched her move toward her own locker, he couldn't shake the sense of longing that lingered in his heart.

Jonathan couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched a guy approach Y/n at her locker. He felt a surge of jealousy rise within him, coupled with a gnawing sense of unease. His mind raced with scenarios, imagining the worst possible outcomes. What if this guy was her boyfriend? What if she preferred his company over Jonathan's?

He had completely forgetthen the about the possibility that she might already be in a relationship. A knot formed in his stomach as he watched them engage in conversation. He strained to hear snippets of their exchange, trying to decipher their relationship. His grip tightened on the books in his hands, his knuckles turning white with tension.

Jonathan's thoughts swirled with insecurity and doubt. He couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that washed over him. As he watched the interaction unfold, a sense of resignation settled over him. Perhaps it was best to keep his distance, to spare himself the inevitable disappointment of rejection.

As Jonathan closed his locker, he couldn't help but overhear the exchange between Y/n and the guy who had approached her. He lingered nearby, discreetly eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you every time, I don’t want to go out with you,” Y/n's voice carried a firmness, her words laced with frustration.

The guy persisted, undeterred. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you that I’m not a bad guy. What have you got to lose?” he argued.

Y/n didn't mince her words. “I’ve watched you and your friends bully people, yet you’re gonna stand there and tell me you’re not a bad guy?” Her tone was sharp, cutting through the air with conviction.

With a dismissive roll of his eyes, the guy retorted, “It’s just a bit of fun.”

Y/n's response was final. “Goodbye, now,” she stated firmly, closing her locker and walking away, leaving the guy behind.

Jonathan felt a wave of relief wash over him as he listened to the conversation unfold. Not only did it confirm that Y/n was single, but it also revealed her refusal to entertain someone disrespectful like that guy. Yet, alongside the relief, a simmering anger brewed within him. The audacity of that guy to treat her with such disrespect ignited a fire within Jonathan. Upon getting a closer look, he recognized the guy as one of the same guys who had tormented him before, one that hangs with Bo. Aaron was a real piece of shit.

Jonathan's gaze must have lingered for too long, for the Aaron turned to face him, his expression twisted with anger. "What are you looking at, Scarecrow?" he spat out aggressively.

Jonathan felt a surge of panic coursing through him, his muscles tensing in preparation for confrontation. However, before he could respond, the bell rang, cutting through the tension like a sharp blade. With a sense of relief, Jonathan hastily made his exit, heading off to his own class, leaving the guy behind in the hallway.

Jonathan managed to navigate his classes without encountering Aaron again, a small relief in an otherwise nerve racking day. As lunchtime arrived, he found himself in the crowded cafeteria.

For Jonathan, lunch was a simple affair. His pockets rarely held enough spare change to afford a cafeteria meal, and even if they did, the thought of eating the food they served was revolting in and of itself. Instead, he relied on the sandwich he'd prepared at home earlier that morning. A humble meal, but one that brought him comfort.

In the corner of the cafeteria, Jonathan sat in solitary silence, a lone figure amidst rest. With a library book propped open before him, he stole moments between bites of his homemade sandwich to immerse himself in its pages. The book was a refuge, a small rebellion against the suffocating grip of Grandma Kenny's stringent beliefs.

Jonathan didn’t want to imagine the consequences if Grandma Kenny were to discover his forbidden literary indulgence. Her wrath was legendary, her punishments cruel and unpredictable. From stupid chores to brutal beatings. Jonathan shuddered at the memory of being locked in the decrepit church, surrounded by the menacing caws of circling crows. An ordeal he'd endured more than once for daring to defy her rules.

He barely noticed that person approaching his table. Jonathan's heart jumped in his chest as he watched Aaron's hand descend upon the table with a thud, the sudden noise echoing in the cafeteria. His grip tightened on the book, his knuckles turning white, as he braced himself for whatever confrontation was about to unfold.

Aaron's smirk widened as he snatched the book from Jonathan's hands, flipping through its pages with a mocking chuckle. "What cha reading, Scarecrow?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

Jonathan remained rooted to his seat, his silence a stark contrast to Aaron's brash demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, a torrent of emotions churned within him. Fear, anger, and a deep-seated sense of vulnerability.

With a swift motion, Aaron swatted Jonathan's sandwich off the table, the force causing crumbs to scatter across the surface. Jonathan flinched at the sudden movement, his fingers twitching as if instinctively reaching out to reclaim his meal.

But he held himself back, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Aaron. He knew better than to provoke further confrontation, especially in such a public setting. So, with a clenched jaw and a steely resolve, Jonathan remained silent, his eyes betraying none of the turmoil raging within.

Aaron's smirk widened at Jonathan's restraint, clearly relishing the power he held in this moment of dominance. With a swift motion, he tossed the book aside, its pages fluttering in protest before settling on the tabletop.

"What's the matter, Scarecrow? Cat got your tongue?" Aaron taunted, leaning in closer, his breath hot against Jonathan's ear.

Jonathan's jaw tightened further, his fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He refused to give Aaron the satisfaction of a response, knowing that any retort would only fuel the bully's ego. Instead, he focused on maintaining his composure, willing himself to remain calm in the face of adversity.

As Aaron continued to mock and jeer, Jonathan's mind raced, searching for an escape from this uncomfortable confrontation. He knew he couldn't let Aaron intimidate him, not again. With a deep breath, Jonathan forced himself to ignore the taunts, his eyes flickering momentarily to the scattered crumbs on the table.

Just as Aaron seemed poised to escalate the situation further, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Hey, Aaron, leave him alone."

Y/n stood at the edge of the table, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. Her presence seemed to catch Aaron off guard, his smirk faltering for just a moment before he composed himself.

"Mind your own business, Y/n," Aaron retorted, his tone dripping with disdain.

"And you wonder why I won’t go out with you," Y/n shot back, her voice unwavering.

Jonathan watched in awe as Y/n stood her ground, her confidence radiating in the face of adversity. He felt a surge of gratitude towards her, knowing that she had once again stepped in to defend him.

Aaron's eyes narrowed as he glared at Y/n, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged. For a moment, the cafeteria seemed to hold its breath, or atleast it did for Jonathan.

But then, with a frustrated huff, Aaron shoved himself away from the table, casting one last menacing glare at Jonathan before stalking off into the crowd.

Y/n exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing as the immediate threat dissipated. She turned to Jonathan with a sympathetic smile, offering him a reassuring nod.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, concern evident in her eyes.

Jonathan nodded, gratitude swelling in his chest. "Thanks to you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's smile widened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder. "Anytime," she said. “You wanna come sit with my friends and me?” Y/n offered, her voice carrying a warmth that melted away some of Jonathan's anxiety.

Jonathan felt his heart flutter in his chest. Was she really inviting him to join her? He glanced down, adjusting his glasses to hide the nervousness he felt bubbling inside.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just don’t want Aaron coming back to bother you,” Y/n added, her concern evident in her tone.

“I’d like that,” Jonathan replied, his voice soft but resolute.

Y/n's smile widened. Jonathan began gathering his things, carefully stowing his book in his bag before turning to his sandwich. However, his heart sank as he realized it had been scattered across the table, a casualty of Aaron's aggression.

With a frustrated huff, Jonathan began collecting the remnants of his meal, his movements tinged with embarrassment. Y/n watched him with a sympathetic gaze.

“Do you have anything else to eat?” Y/n asked gently.

Jonathan shook his head, a pang of hunger gnawing at his stomach as he disposed of the ruined sandwich in the nearby bin.

“I have some food you can have if you’d like,” Y/n offered, her voice warm and inviting.

“It’s okay, you should eat your food, don’t worry about me,” Jonathan replied, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“It’s fine, my dad always packs me too much anyways,” Y/n insisted, her smile unwavering.

Y/n reached out a hand towards Jonathan, silently inviting him to join her. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and gratitude, before accepting her gesture.

As they walked together towards Y/n's table, Jonathan couldn't help but steal glances at her. She walked with an effortless grace, her presence exuding a sense of comfort that eased the tension coiled within him.

Arriving at the table, Y/n pulled out a sandwich from her bag, “You can have this one, I don’t feel like eating two ham sandwiches today.” Without hesitation, she handed it to Jonathan, a small but genuine smile gracing her lips.

Jonathan accepted the sandwich with a grateful nod, his stomach rumbling in anticipation of the unexpected meal. He glanced around the table, noticing Y/n's friends chatting and laughing amongst themselves. They didn't seem to pay him much mind, but Jonathan didn't mind. His focus was solely on Y/n, her presence casting a comforting glow that made him feel at ease.

Settling into his seat, Jonathan began unwrapping the sandwich, the simple act of kindness from Y/n filling him with a sense of warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time. As he took a bite, he couldn't help but steal another glance at Y/n, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over him for her unexpected kindness.

It was perfect that he shared lunch with Y/n, not just because Jonathan cherished her company, but also because they had a class together, offering the perfect excuse to stroll side by side. With each step, Jonathan felt a sense of pride swell within him, as if walking with Y/n wasn’t just out of practicality, but because they were together, almost like a couple.

Y/n's lively chatter filled the air as they walked through the corridors, but Jonathan found himself lost in her presence, captivated by her every word and movement. Arriving at their classroom, they settled into their familiar seats, and Jonathan couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement as Y/n's arm brushed against his own, sending his heart into a flutter.

In that moment, Jonathan felt a sense of certainty wash over him. Y/n was meant for him, of that he was sure. Her smiles, her kindness, her very essence seemed to affirm his belief. No girl had ever shown him such warmth, and he couldn't deny the connection he felt with her.

As he sat beside her, Jonathan knew he had to ask her out. It had taken him over a week to muster the courage to ask out Sherry, but with Y/n, it felt different. She lifted his spirits effortlessly, instilling in him a newfound confidence. Though they had only known each other for a short time, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that she was the right one.

Walking out of class together, their steps echoing faintly in the empty hallway, Jonathan and Y/n exchanged casual conversation. Their last periods were both study periods, which gave them the opportunity to leave school early. As they stepped into the open air outside the building, Jonathan's heart drummed against his ribcage. He knew he had to ask her out. There was no turning back now.

Approaching the familiar corner where their paths diverged, the pair came to a halt and turned to face each other. The soft afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow around them, highlighting Y/n's radiant smile.

"Thanks for walking with me. See you tomorrow," Y/n said, her smile warming Jonathan's heart as she prepared to bid him farewell.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Jonathan spoke up, his words hanging in the air between them like delicate wisps of anticipation. "U-uh, Y/n?" he began, his voice betraying a slight tremor of nervousness.

"Yes, Jonathan?" Y/n replied, her eyes fixed on him expectantly, a gentle curiosity gleaming within them.

This was his moment. Jonathan took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. "I-I was wondering… if y-you'd like to go out with me?" he managed to utter, his heart pounding furiously against his chest, his hands trembling ever so slightly with nervous anticipation.

As he observed her reaction, he detected a subtle change in her demeanor. The radiant smile that had graced her lips moments ago seemed to wane, replaced by a hint of saddness that creased her brow ever so slightly. Jonathan's stomach churned with apprehension as he realized he might have misread the situation.

In that moment, he felt like a complete idiot. He berated himself internally for being so stupid, for daring to hope for something more. Jonathan's gaze faltered, his eyes dropping to the ground in a gesture of defeat. He cursed his own foolishness, reprimanding himself for misinterpreting Y/n's kindness as something it wasn't.

"I'm sorry, I never should have asked," Jonathan murmured, his voice tinged with shame.

Y/n's gentle touch on his arm made him glance up, meeting her gaze once more. He was met with a look of sincerity and understanding, her eyes soft with empathy.

"No, it's not that, Jonathan..." Y/n began, her voice tender as she sought to reassure him. "I'm sorry, I do like you, Jonathan, it's just... I'm not really ready to date anyone at the moment," she explained, her words laced with a hint of guilt.

Jonathan felt a mixture of relief and disappointment wash over him. He appreciated Y/n's honesty, but he couldn't shake the sting of rejection. Nevertheless, he managed a small nod, acknowledging her words.

Jonathan's heart sank as he prepared himself for rejection, his mind already forming apologies for his audacity. But then, Y/n spoke, her voice soft yet firm, cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

"It's okay, Y/n," Jonathan replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. "I understand. Thank you for being honest with me."

Y/n's expression softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you for understanding, Jonathan. You're a good friend."

The weight of her words settled over him, and Jonathan couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth blossom within his chest. Despite the outcome not being what he had hoped for, he found solace in the bond they shared and the prospect of their continued friendship.

With a faint smile, Jonathan mustered the courage to meet Y/n's gaze once more. "I'm glad we can still be friends," he said, his voice soft yet sincere.

Y/n returned his smile, her eyes reflecting warmth and gratitude. "Me too, Jonathan," she replied, reaching out to gently squeeze his arm.

Jonathan's heart swelled as she suddenly pulled him closer, wrapping him in a warm embrace. His breath caught in his throat, momentarily stunned by the unexpected gesture. He hesitated for a moment before tentatively returning the hug, savoring the fleeting moment between them.

As Y/n pulled away, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, wishing he could hold onto the moment just a little longer. He watched in awe as she walked away, her figure disappearing down the street. Despite the bittersweet twinge of unrequited feelings, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for Y/n's grace and kindness.

He knew that she was the one he wanted to be with. Her kindness, understanding, and genuine nature spoke volumes to him, reaffirming his belief that she was worth waiting for.

As he watched her walk away, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a profound sense of connection to her, a feeling he hadn't experienced with anyone else before. He knew that their bond was special, even if it wasn't romantic just yet. And while he longed for more, he was willing to be patient, knowing that good things often took time.

With a wistful smile, Jonathan silently vowed to cherish their friendship and support Y/n in any way he could. He was willing to wait for her, confident that their paths would eventually align in the future. And as he continued on his journey home, he carried with him a sense of hope and anticipation, knowing that she was worth the wait.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to come out, as usual, uni shit 💀 (cause I'm a dumb ass doing a double major) I set this after the Halloween party, so Jonathan probably should have been more aggressive and all that shit, but in the comic, he's all shy and all that stuff with Sherry (before the prank), so I wanted to keep along those lines. I really hope I did this request justice as I loved it so much. Thank you all for reading and I hope you liked it as much as I liked writing it 💚

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lovesick-feelings · 1 year

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UPDATE: This is just a repost for the tags. The original reblog will be kept up! Original AU made by @soleilxe please go check out their blog they are a genius (๑♡ ⌓♡๑)

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I had to get this one out in case the DLC mysteriously dropped out of nowhere! (ʘᗩʘ’)

I absolutely love this AU so much! I am telling you rn that when I first read this I couldn't stop thinking about it and i was so sad that it was never expanded! So I ended up drawing a small comic (this is like my first time doing something like this so sorry if its messy! ) and that was supposed to be it but I ended up writing a short fic as well (⌒_⌒;) Btw this is just my spin on things so sorry if I made any errors!

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"Irreparable," the company claimed. It made no sense to Sun and Moon. From what they know the incident occurred the night an unexpected visitor came by. On the morning management came in, they were met with their main star missing, busted animatronics, and a disheveled mall. To think that the boy they met that fateful night caused all this was… strange, to say the least. At least they were perfectly fine! Yeah, they had a bit of trouble avoiding the flames resulting in slight damage but they were working! With a few repairs and replacements, everything would be right as rain! However, that didn't stop Fazbear Mall from permanently shutting its doors.

Even after conversations they overheard between co-workers, workers leaving as soon as they arrived with salvaged valuables, and the final click of the lock shutting the doors permanently, Sun was in denial.

"They'll come back for us! We'll just have to wait till then!" Although Moon was still troubled by the events that night, he still held onto hope.

"Yes, yes you're right. In the meantime, we should clean up~"

"That's the spirit!" Sun cheered.

The first few months played out like this: waiting and cleaning up whatever they could in anticipation that the company or someone would return. However, those beliefs slowly slipped away with each passing month. Sun tried so hard to keep them distracted from their situation but it’s difficult when you wake up in the same hell every day. Nowadays when he tries to comfort Moon every word comes out unsteady. If only he could make them more believable.

Moon couldn't handle it. It was all his fault. If he'd just fought back none of this would have happened. But how could you fight against something you didn’t know was coming? The night he became corrupted haunted him endlessly. It didn’t help that they also became more beat-up after several failed escapes he made. Though he was grateful for his brother's support, it felt more like lies and empty promises as time passed. Failure after failure, shame, and guilt built up. It was always at his lowest when he felt the same corrupt urges he had that fateful night back.

"SHUT IT! JUST SHUT IT! IT'S THE SAME THING EVERY SINGLE DAY! NO ONE IS COMING FOR US!!"

"...sorry" Sun whimpered.

It was always too late by the time he snapped back to his senses. It was like he was stuck in an endless loop of mistakes. All he could do was apologize and blame himself again.

With no business and no people to tend to days have been spent pacing and cleaning the decrepit daycare. Today was no different. Sun wiped his hands in the desk cabinet causing thick layers of dust to fly in every direction. Every item out of place has already been put back in its original spot long ago. All there was left was the tedious task of wiping away dust.

Moon never understood why he was so keen on getting into the smallest crevices. He couldn’t deny he had his fastidious tendencies but Sun always went above him. He always claimed it was a good way to pass time but Moon knew better. Even with the new body allowing both of them to be present at once Sun still was never the biggest fan of shutting down for long periods. Normally, Moon would push him into resting but Sun seemed to be in a better mood today and he didn't want to disturb him.

The crash of crumbling rubble made them jump from their spot. It was loud enough to hear across the daycare. Their eyes were drawn to the ceiling and they noticed a huge hole. Sun frowned. Was the building finally caving down?

"Must've been a rat"

"whAT?-" Sun choked out.

"What do you mean by a rat? A rat does not cause a hole in the ceiling to collapse!" Moon's only response was a shrug. From where they were it looked like it was around the ball pit area.

"Let’s check it to see-"

"NO"

"WhaT WHy?" Sun’s voice glitched from surprise. He didn’t expect such a sudden response.

"Because it's most likely nothing. The building is just deteriorating again…" He stated plain and simple.

"Well yes but-” Sun paused for a moment, “B-but we may as well check to make sure nothing is wrong!" Moon didn't respond. It’s going to be nothing again and he really wasn’t up for disappointment. Knowing Sun, they were bound to end up there regardless.

"Okay," he grumbled. Moon could feel Sun slightly bounce up. He sighed as they walked around the desk and towards the ball pit. As they continue their journey, Sun can sense Moon slowing down.

"Moon, what's wrong?-"

"Shhh listen" Sun paused. He didn't know what he was trying to listen to but he did so anyway. There was something in the distance. Were those… footsteps? The bots trudged closer to the sound quietly. For the first time in ages, their sensors picked up someone.

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"Dammit..."

This was your fifth time wiping your clothes off debris. You knew buildings like this had weak floors but you didn't expect it to give in that easily! You would say you’ve been through worse but you’ve never been through something like this. You’re honestly not sure if watching Youtube videos of failed urban exploring counts as an experience.

This was supposed to be your biggest project yet. Entering the abandoned Pizzaplex had been done before but nobody had ever explored past the ground floor. You had one goal: Record as much exploration as your camera storage will allow, upload all footage to your channel, and satisfy the hungry viewers with the possibility of getting that sweet YouTube money. What you hadn’t anticipated was falling through the floor and being trapped in one of the areas 30 minutes into your exploration. Now you have to find a way out.

You looked back at the ball pit and shuddered, thinking of what might have happened if it hadn't stopped your fall. Walking over the chipped rainbow bridge you pulled out your flashlight and observed what was in front of you. You had to admit the place didn’t age as badly as you thought! It has its flaws from the fire but you were surprised by how much stuff still survived.

The bright cheery colors that once painted this daycare have dulled to darker hues. Somehow the kid's chairs were neatly pushed into the tables and toy barrels were still stacked on top of each other. You looked over the massive play structure. They were still standing strong and tall beside some large dark spots in some areas which you assumed was also caused by the fire. A few of the giant mascot cutouts were hanging on the sides while others that had fallen were carefully propped up against the walls. When you shined your light on one of the aisles, the light didn't reach much distance.

"Geez this place is huge..."

You took a few steps before hearing a scuffle. For a second, you assumed it was some small animal. At least that's what you hoped it was. You were about to turn back when you heard it again. You whipped your flashlight in the sound’s direction.

"Hello!?" You kinda cringed at how hoarse your voice came out. You darted your flashlight for a bit until you caught it. You froze. How long was it standing there? You pointed your light at the animatronic.

Even from a distance, you could tell how huge the animatronic were. A split separated the two sides, which gave the appearance of two heads. Among them, one half had dark yellow skin and a crown that resembled rays from the sun, while the other half had darker blue skin with a nightcap resembling a moon. Each had two pairs of arms. Their clothes or at least what remained of them were tattered. Parts of their endoskeleton are exposed most noticeably on their face. Their glowing eyes pierced your soul. What felt like hours of silence were finally broken when their soft chuckles turned into hysterical laughter.

"NEW FRIEND!!"

"NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE!" You bolted in the opposite direction of the playground. As you ran you tried dodging as much debris as you could without falling over. As you approached the wall you could see large wooden doors. That's the exit! You weren't able to slow down your speed in time causing you to slam your arm against the door. Thanks to your adrenaline pumping you couldn't feel a thing. You tried pulling open the door only to hear clicking noises. IT’S FUCKING LOCKED!!!

“New friend!”

“New friend~”

“New friend!”

Their calls were growing closer.

You looked around until you crawled into one of the kiddie slides. You climbed your way up, lying flat on your stomach. You were pretty high up. There was no way they could see you as long as you didn't lean against the bars. The metal grating grows louder as the robot approaches where you once stood.

"N-new friend please cOME BaCK!!" He wailed in distress like a mother trying to find her lost infant.

“Shhh you’re going to scare them~” You gritted your teeth. Yeah, like they hadn’t scared you to death already. Unlike the other voice, this one was hushed and calm. As if it was a situation he knew all too well. The other voice gasped and quietly apologized.

"Where are you, new friend?~" There was intense silence. They let out what sounded like a disgruntled sigh before the scraping faded away. Once you were sure they were gone you took a breath of relief. You didn't realize you were holding your breath the whole time. Your heartbeat was so loud you were afraid they would hear it. 'What even was that…?' You tried to recollect your thoughts. Everything happened so fast that you couldn't comprehend what was happening. When you tried thinking back about what happened all your mind could replay was the moment you stared into their ghostly irises.

'Okay, that's enough…’ You sat up. Another deep breath calmed your heart. There has to be another way out of here. You peer through the cage. From your vantage point, you couldn’t get much. There were only two things you could see from where you were: the front desk and the children's pit in front of it. You had to get a better view but how? You sure as hell wasn’t about to sneak down again. You looked towards the bridge connecting the two playgrounds. Despite its aging, it still looked sturdy enough to cross. Maybe this was your chance? You didn’t want to risk getting caught but you also didn’t want to die either. Well, there's only one way to find out…

A small knock made you recoil back. You turned your head to the slide you came from. No. There’s no way they could get in here. With how big and clunky the animatronic look, they’d probably fall apart the moment you hit them.

Upon getting up, you were met with jelly legs. You're gonna have to crawl this one out. You navigated carefully through the colorful maze. The number of dead ends you ran into got ridiculous. Sometimes you felt like you were crawling in circles until you finally found it. You silently cheered for yourself. The bridge was only a turn away!

Something wrapped around your ankle before you took another step. Your head spins to see several pairs of hands gripping your ankle. You couldn't scream before those hands brutally dragged your body down the slide. The suddenness of it all caused your head to bang against a turn. You hit the floor with a loud thud holding your head. All you could do was lay limp on the foam flooring. What even happened? You could feel your head throbbing from the pain. A giant shadow loomed over your figure. Rough, metal arms wrap themselves around you in a cold embrace.

“Found you, friend, ~” The two laughed together making a strange combination of a cackle and a giggle. You wish you could fight back but you feel so nauseous and weak. All you could do was stand there awkwardly as you got crushed. Dread overwhelms your body.

“We were so worried about you, friend! You shouldn’t run away like that! I-I mean what if you got lost or h-URT!?” Their grasp on you was tightened as he spoke. The voice coming from what you assumed was the sun’s side made you tense up. His voice made your ears start ringing. Was he always this panicky?

“Now, now there’s no need for that anymore.” His hand cupped your cheek tilting it so you could face them.

“It won’t happen again~” The drop in his voice made it sound like a death threat.

“Besides-" He resumed back to himself.

"Think of all the fun we'll have together~!” Sun’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, you’re right! We have so many activities we could do now that we’re together!” They easily pull you up and swing your body around.

“We’ll have soooooo much fun~!” Moon chuckled

“We could play charades!”

“And tell stories~!”

“Oh oh, we could finger paint too! I haven’t done that in so long!!” The two exchanged enthusiastic opinions about everything they planned.

You honestly felt like you would puke. It was too loud. Your head was throbbed and your whole body was aching. Everything felt so overwhelming. You didn’t care about exploring anymore, you just wanted to go back to the comfort of your home. You tried holding back the tears brimming in your eyes. The robots tensed when they heard soft hiccups. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks. Your body was lowered, bringing you closer together. Moon’s eyes widened while Sun’s eyelids drooped when they realized you were crying.

“Friend, what's wrong?” Your cry turned into a full-blown sob. Sun and Moon quickly sat down. Laying you on their lap, they gently rocked you back and forth with their arms propping you up. Your sobbing could be heard throughout the whole daycare all the while Sun and Moon tried calming you down. They rubbed circles around your back whispering reassurances.

“It’s alright~”

“You’re safe now!”

“There’s no need to cry~” Their hands whipped your tears away. Your body becomes less tense.

“Did we do this?” You opened your eyes realizing they were looking at your head. Their concern was evident. You flinched when their fingers grazed the area you hit.

“Oh sorry! I-I-I didn't meAn tO do THat! WE-”

“Sun.” Moon interrupted

“We can fix this. As long as we follow instructed procedures they will be fine~”

“Oh right right! Sorry about that, friend” You could feel their fingers tenderly stroking your hair. They cradled your body while whispering soothing words.

You could’ve easily pushed them away and made a run for them, but you didn’t have the motivation to do so. You were beyond tired to fight back. It was getting harder to hold up heavy eyelids and the animatronic also seemed to realize this.

“Shhh rest~ You will feel better after a good sleep~” You had to admit their voice was comforting. This couldn’t be so bad right? They seemed nice enough. So it was okay to shut your eyes for a bit. You lifted your eyes one more time to see theirs. If only you were more awake you would’ve caught their lovesickness plastered on their faces gazing at you. Maybe then you’d realized sooner the situation you were now trapped in. You felt two soft taps on your forehead, mocking a kiss before slipping into darkness.

“Goodnight, Starlight~”

“Goodnight, Sunshine!”

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brewsterispunkk · 1 year

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THE TUTOR

part 2/4

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader (period is mentioned), eddie munson x fem!reader

WC: 4.1k

summary: reader and eddie begin their little deal.

warnings: idiots. just idiots. also brief SA-- nothing explicit, just groping--NOT main pairing, recreational drug use

A/N: here is part 2! hope u love it! pls pls pls leave feedback ;) read it and weep.

Senior Year Bucket List

1) Get drunk

2) Skip Class

3) Do a drug

4) Sneak out

5) Skinny dip

6) Get a boyfriend, lose my virginity

You sighed and shook your head as soon as you’d written that last part, hands only half-shaking.

This was fine, you thought to yourself.

It wasn’t weird, you kept telling yourself. It wasn’t. Eddie himself had asked you to come to school Monday with an itemized list of what exactly you’d felt like you’d missed out on. “A bucket list of sorts” he called it.

You had to keep yourself from adding “feeling safe” to the list of things you’d felt you’d missed out on.

That was difficult for you sometimes.

For the most part, you’d been able to compartmentalize what had happened to you last summer: the deaths, the torture, the “mall fire.” The rest of Hawkins knew that you’d survived it, along with Steve, Robin, and the kids. You’d gotten away with minor bruising to the face and neck after a Russian tried to choke you in an effort to get you to talk. It wasn’t ideal, but it could have been worse. Steve had been the one to take the brunt of the torture. You and Robin had screamed yourselves hoarse while they beat him in the other room.

You sometimes still had nightmares about the sick sound of their fists hitting his face.

When you’d emerged as one of the survivors of what they were calling the “Starcourt Mall Fire,” your mother had been relieved. After your father had split when you were ten, you were all she had. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for the effects of what had happened to you. To be fair, neither were you. Neither were any of you.

You’d always been shy, ever since you were a kid, but now instead of having a generally quiet disposition, you were skittish. The slightest noise made you jump, and you couldn’t stand to listen to Reagan talk about the U.S.S.R. on the news without having a panic attack. The nightmares had subsided after about two months, though they returned whenever you were stressed.

You found you always looked over your shoulder, always looking out for some unknown thing that might be stalking you. When people talk about saving the world, they never talk about the ugly parts. About the broken fingernails and the insomnia and the muffling of sobs behind your hand as you break down in the girls’ bathroom.

It’s a lonely thing, being a hero. An unfair thing. You felt like that night at Starcourt, when Hopper and Billy Hargrove hadn’t emerged from the fire, your adolescence had been stolen from you. That it had disappeared with the smoke and ash as it engulfed Scoops Ahoy and the rest of the shopping center. You hope that if Eddie actually does follow through with this little deal of yours, you’ll be able to experience at least a little of it.

- - - -

“So,” Eddie drummed his hands on the top of your desk as he slid into the seat in front of you. “What do you have for me, miss tutor girl?”

He was awfully chipper for 7:00 in the morning. You blinked at him and skated your gaze across the room.

It was close enough to first period for the room to be reasonably filled with students, most too sluggish to notice. But a few girls towards the front looked over their shoulders at him, eyes narrowed, before zooming in on you, where they widened curiously.

“What, scared for your reputation?” Eddie was only half-joking, his eyes a little guarded. They narrowed at you.

You shook your head almost comically.

“No,” you burst. “No, not at all. Just had a weird night.”

“Hm,” he looked at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes.

“We’ve already talked about this, Eddie. I don’t have a reputation for you to ruin.”

He snorted at that.

“Alright then,” he leaned forward, his chin on his fists. “What’s got you so skittish, then? Another crazy party like Friday?”

“No,” you sighed, leaning down to retrieve your list from your backpack. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Okay.” He looked like he didn’t believe you. You didn’t blame him; you couldn’t have been that convincing. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Did you bring it?” He asked.

You nodded, slamming the sheet of notebook paper onto the desk and slid it over to him.

“Here you go,” you pulled at your sleeve nervously. “Just don’t laugh, okay?”

Eddie looked at you and feigned shock.

“Me? Laugh at you? I’m offended.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you felt your cheeks flush and your stomach plummet. “I’m just–It’s embarrassing. I’m being very… vulnerable and if you’re gonna laugh, we can just forget about it—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” his warm hands covered yours where they were sitting on the desk. He squeezed your palms reassuringly. “I was kidding. I won’t laugh. Scout’s honor.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment to see if he was serious. All you saw was sincerity. You let out a deep breath.

“You were a boy scout?”

His lips spread in a wry smile as he turned to the paper.

“Nope,” he unfolded the list. “It’s the thought that counts, though, right?”

You shrugged.

“I guess?”

“Okay, what do we have here?”

You sat in awkward silence as Eddie scanned the page, dark eyes focused. Hie brows were furrowed and his lips pouted in concentration.

“‘Get drunk,’ we can certainly make that happen. ‘Skip a class,’ you won’t need to ask me twice.” He stopped for a moment and huffed a laugh.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“What–”

“‘Do a drug.’” He said with a secret smile–like he knew something you didn’t.

“Yeah,” you drew out. “I figured you’d know a guy.”

“Oh,” Eddie laughed. “I know a guy.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled at you, before turning his eyes back to the page. “Ohh.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled as he turned them back to you. He looked like a sprite, you thought. With his wild hair and mischievous smile. He was gorgeous.

“‘Get a boyfriend,’” he set the list down on the table. “Am I going to be playing match-maker, teacher’s pet?”

You rolled your eyes. He was teasing you.

“If that’s what it takes,” you quipped, your nervousness having melted away. “And I am not a teacher’s pet.”

“Whatever you say,” he raised an eyebrow at you.

As you opened your mouth to respond, the clearing of a throat interrupted you.

You looked up to see Cameron Reyes leering over Eddie.

“Hey. You’re in my seat,” he sneered. “Beat it.”

Eddie sighed, before slinking out of the seat slowly, taking his time.

“My apologies,” he smiled at Cameron, before dropping into his own seat, next to you.

You glared at the back of Cameron’s head.

Why did he have to be such an asshole?

Cameron was on the swim team and you’d had classes with him since Kindergarten. He hadn’t always been a dick; In fourth grade when you’d skinned your knee, he’d helped you up and walked you to the nurse’s office. It wasn’t until high school, when he’d begun running with guys like Tommy Hagan, that he’d changed. Now, you couldn’t stand him.

That was the way of things, though, in Hawkins. There were the bullies and the bullied—rarely anything in between.

- - - -

As you walked down the halls, you felt their eyes on your legs and you regretted letting Robin convince you to wear this skirt.

The denim felt heavy on your hips. You wiped your clammy hands on the blue material, wishing that you didn’t have to walk practically across school to get to pre-calc.

“Looking good,” someone whistled from behind you. You felt dread seep down your spine.

Please no, not here.

This wasn’t the first time you’d been catcalled.

The first time was when you and Robin were thirteen and walking to the general store down the road from your houses. A few men in a pick-up truck had rolled their windows down and told you in great detail all they’d liked to do to you. You and Robin hid inside the general store until the clerk called your mom to pick you up. You hadn’t even gotten your first period yet.

However, this was the first time you’d been catcalled at school. It still felt just as scary as the first time.

“Where have you been hiding those legs, teacher’s pet?”

You whipped around at the nickname, bristling at it. You hated when people called you that, unless that person was Eddie.

You were faced with a basketball player; one of the guys who hung out with Jason Carver and sometimes Lucas. Thomas Reed. Your skin crawled at the way he and the two boys behind him looked at you.

“Fuck off,” you spat at him before turning on your heel and walking faster to your destination.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” He called after you, but you could barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

It only calmed when you’d reached your classroom.

- - - -

“Are you even listening to me?” You smacked his hand where it was tapping on the wood of the library table. Outside, a heavy autumn rain pummeled the sidewalk, the trees swaying with it.

“Yes,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“What did I just say?”

“That…Holden is a whiny little bitch.”

You sighed, bringing a hand to your forehead.

“No.” You ground out. “And if you write that in your essay, Ms. Taylor is going to fail you and me, so please, can you take this seriously?”

He sighed and had the nerve to look a little guilty. It made your heart clench a bit.

In the few sessions you’d tutoring Eddie, your crush had done anything but lessened. In fact, it had grown tenfold. It was one thing to admire him from across the room, it was another completely to spend time with him and actually be able to talk to him.

You found that in addition to being cute and pensive, he was kind and not at all the scary loner that everyone painted him to be. If he hadn’t cemented his reputation by being an avid player of D&D, he would’ve been popular, you thought.

And all this goes to day: you couldn’t stay mad at him, even when you wanted to.

“Okay,” he said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. You briefly reminded yourself to offer to cut them for him later—he’d been complaining about them getting in his face all session. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“What?” Your attention snapped back to him. Eddie looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Uhh, I asked what you were saying?”

“Oh! Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “I zoned out.”

“I gathered that.” Eddie snorted, leaning forward. “Uh, off-topic, but I was wondering, when do you wanna get started on that bucket list?”

“Oh. Whenever.”

“I was thinking we could start this week.”

“So soon?” You practically squeaked. As excited you were about these new experiences, you were nervous. Especially because the person you’d be experiencing them with was Eddie. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

“No time like the present,” Eddie’s voice was chipper. “So, what did you wanna start with?”

“I thought we’d start small and work up to something bigger?” You asked.

“That sounds good,” Eddie nodded. “How does skipping class work for this week?”

“Ugh, not well actually.” You sighed, sour. “We have that exam this week in Taylor’s and then for Chem I have—”

“Relax, we don’t have to start with that one. Hmm, what else…”

“We could always—”

You cut yourself off, thinking better of it, but Eddie caught you.

“Nevermind.”

“No, what is it?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“If you wanna do something, you gotta tell me. It’s your bucket list, tutor-girl, not mine.”

“What if we…did a drug?”

God, you sounded like such a teacher’s pet saying it.

“Okay, teacher’s pet.” Eddie’s face was gleeful, excited. “You’re full of surprises. We can do that, definitely.”

“Okay,” you let out a breath.

“Any reason why you jumped to that one?”

“I just– I’m so stressed.” Thomas Reed’s lustful gaze flashed in your mind and you shook it off.

“You okay?” Eddie grabbed your hand on the table. You swallowed.

“Yeah,” you said lamely, mouth dry. “Just–a lot going on. School.”

“School,” Eddie repeated like he didn’t believe you. His eyes held yours for a moment before he nodded. “Okay teacher’s pet. Drugs it is. Any preference?”

“Nothing too crazy. Just something to take the edge off?”

“I can do that,” he smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think you’ll be funny high.”

“We’ll see,” you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smiled at you for a moment. Your eyes held his and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and kiss him. You coughed, turning back to your notes in front of you.

“Anyway, what do you think Salinger’s trying to say?”

“Other than the fact that Holden is annoying?”

“Eddie, I’m serious—”

“I am too!” Eddie insisted. “All this shit about ‘phonies,’ when he’s just like them–”

“You know, I thought you’d relate to Holden.” You smirked at him.

“What?”

“Well, he’s an outcast—all teenage angst and—”

“I’m twenty, thank you.” He snapped at you, causing you to stutter.

“Oh, no I didn’t mean outcast like—”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie chuckled, waving you off. “It’s true. And I like it that way.”

You eyed him skeptically.

“Really, I do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “There are too many assholes in this school. If I wanted to fit in, I’d have to act like them. At least a little bit. Besides, I’ve got people. Not much, but I’ve got’em.”

You hummed.

“I’ve never thought of that.”

“What, Holden being a bitch, because—”

You smacked his arm, laughing.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Eddie giggled. He giggled. Your heart leapt. “What, though? What did I say that was so profound?”

He was being sarcastic, you could tell, but you didn’t care.

“The whole—having to sacrifice part of yourself to fit in. It’s true. I’d never thought of it like that.”

He hummed, eyes holding yours a moment, before his grin broke the moment.

“Maybe I should be the one tutoring, huh?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Turn to page 225.”

- - - -

Thomas found you again the next day, this time before school as you were at your locker.

“Hey there,” he smiled, sliding up next to you, effectively boxing you in between him and the locker. You jumped, moving as close to the locker as you could. “How are you today?”

“Leave me alone,” you ground out, trying to slip past him, but his hand in a hard grip on your arm stopped you.

“Aw, but we could have so much fun, teacher’s pet.”

“Let me go—”

“Where’s your little skirt?” he asked, grip tightening on your arm as you scrambled to get away.

You silently cursed whoever in the administration office had placed your locker on one of the most abandoned hallways in the school.

“Your legs looked so good—”

His palm came to squeeze the meat of your ass and your stomach churned. Without thinking, you spat in his face, palm coming to connect with his cheek.

“You cunt—”

“The hell is going on here?”

Eddie walked briskly up to you as you stepped back from Thomas. He moved to stand between you two, face hard. It was the mask he put on every day in front of the rest of the school, the ones who thought he was mean and scary. Only now, you weren’t sure how much of it was a mask.

“Nothing, man.” Thomas waved him off, wiping his face. He glared at you in a way that made your feet stick to the spot.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I said it's nothing.”

“And I said—”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

“Hey wait—”

Eddie moved to grab Thomas as he walked away from the two of you.

“I said it’s fine,” you said louder this time, and reached out to grab Eddie’s shoulder and pull him back toward you.

“Bullshit!” He spun and turned toward you, clearly pissed off. “What the hell was that?”

“I said it was fine, Eddie!” You burst at him, voice cracking. You took a deep breath.

“Honey, are you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted Eddie’s suddenly soft voice. You wiped a stray but of moisture from under your eyelid. “Let’s just go to class.”

“But–”

“Eddie, drop it,” you all but snapped, before adding lamely, “please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Lead the way. Taylor’s gonna be pissed if I’m late again.”

You could practically hear him simmering as he walked a half-step behind you to class, but you didn’t care to acknowledge it. You’d made it abundantly clear you didn’t want to talk about it. If he pushed you, you might just snap.

As the two of you made your way down the halls, you felt eyes following you. They were all wondering: what was the quiet nerd doing with the freak? You didn’t care to acknowledge that either.

Let them wonder, you thought. I’m done caring about their rumor mill.

- - - -

“Jesus, Eddie.” You gasped and looked around.

There was no one in the janitor’s closet with you, but still: with that much weed on him, Eddie would be expelled and arrested. You had no idea how he’d gotten it in the two days since your conversation.

“What?” He asked, out of breath. He’d pulled you in here between third and fourth period, scarring you half to death in the process. “I told you I’d get the stuff.”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you meant so much,” you scoffed. Now, looking down at the green, wooly buds you were going to smoke, you felt your stomach flood with anxiety. You weren’t so sure about it anymore. “Where did you even get it?”

“I know a guy.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” you rolled your eyes frustratedly. “What did you drag me here for, anyway?”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused at your hostile tone.

“To…let you know I got the stuff.” He drawled, before narrowing his eyes at you. “You okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Your stomach was churning. Between the stuff with Thomas that morning and now this, it was too much.

You pressed a hand to your abdomen as the faint smell of weed permeated from the open baggie between Eddie’s fingers.

God, he had pretty fingers, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind. It was something you'd revisit when you weren’t about to have a panic attack.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie rushed toward you as you doubled over, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and calm the nausea. His hands found your shoulders, and another wave of the sharp smell of marijuana made you retreat further into your mind.

All of a sudden, you weren’t there; you were back at Starcourt with Billy Hargrove’s hands around your neck, the smell of the weed he’d smoked earlier still on his clothes.

Your breathing shallowed and you gasped, trying to breathe, but in vain.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me,” you faintly heard Eddie over your own heartbeat. “You gotta breathe, honey. C’mon, breathe for me. Deep breaths, like this.”

He pressed your palm to his chest as he inhaled deeply.

You looked up at him, at his wide, panicked eyes and did as he said, slowly inhaling a shaky breath.

“That’s it,” he took another deep breath, eyes not leaving yours. “Just like that. Okay. Another one, now.”

You took a deep breath, much easier this time, eyes never leaving his.

- - - -

“So…” Eddie began, eyes finally meeting yours. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was?”

You sighed, tilting your head back to lean against the wall where you were sitting. You looked up at the fluorescents in the janitor’s closet.

“That was a panic attack, Eddie,” you said monotonously.

“Don’t be a smart ass. What happened?”

You sighed again.

It had taken five minutes for Eddie to talk you down from your… episode. After, he’d let you catch your breath. You’d thought that you’d be able to just go about your day from there. You were stupid to think he’d let this go.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, I don't care about that. I just wanna know what the hell caused it. Did I–”

“No,” you said immediately. “You didn’t—”

“Did it have something to do with this morning?” Eddie’s voice was low, and as serious as you’d ever heard it.

You remained quiet, eyes trained on the light above you. Eddie took that as confirmation. His eyes flashed dangerously as you finally looked at him.

“I’ll kill him.”

Eddie moved to his feet with purpose, moving to open the closet door.

“No!” you grabbed his ankle, scrambling. “No, Eddie. It’s not worth it.”

“Bullshit, it’s not worth it—”

“Please, let’s just get out of here. Let’s go smoke. We’ve practically missed all of fourth period anyway.”

“Honey, he can’t just–”

“I know, Eddie,” you stood up level with him. “But right now, I really wanna leave, and that’s more important than whatever revenge plot you have.”

He looked at the door obstinately for another moment before turning back to you.

“Fine.” he said, not fully convinced.

“Thank you,” you took a calming breath. “Good. Besides, it’ll be like killing two birds with one stone, right? Two items off the bucket list at once.”

- - - -

Eddie’s car was smoky; a hotbox is what he called it.

As you took a long drag of the joint he passed to you, the deep, leafy aroma filled your lungs. As you breathed out, all worries or stress you had about school or Thomas or even the Upside Down diminished to an afterthought.

So this is why people smoke, you thought to yourself, giggling a little bit.

“What is it?” Eddie turned his head to you, unruly curls brushing your cheek.

The two of you were sprawled out on the floor of his van, shoulder to shoulder and head to head, about twenty minutes into the session. You’d learned this so far: that Eddie smelled good, like cigarettes and cologne and something musky, and that his eyes got even more glassy when he smoked. All that to say: you wanted to kiss him. Bad.

You passed him the joint, your fingers brushing his in the process.

“It’s just that I finally get why people do this so much,” you laughed.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” Eddie laughed with you.

“And I feel better already!”

Eddie went quiet, taking two puffs from the joint. You turned to look at him, eyes immediately darting to his lips. He was looking pensively at the corner of the van.

“Not fair,” you grabbed the joint from him. “Don’t hog.”

“I get them too, you know.” He said all of a sudden, somber.

You stopped, looking at him still. Eddie turned his head to face you, nose only an inch from yours.

“Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. When I first came to live with Wayne.”

“Wayne?”

“My uncle,” he swallowed, turning his head away from yours. “I live with him. Have since I was twelve. My dad, he was… not a great guy.”

You were quiet for a moment, passing the joint back to him.

“My dad left.” You said. “Sometimes I’m not even sure I remember what he looks like.”

Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing.

Instead of the flutter of anxious butterflies, you felt a calm wash over you at his hand in yours.

“Do you, uh…” Eddie trailed off, taking a deep huff, “wanna talk about what I saw this morning?”

You sighed, not feeling anxious, but feeling tired.

“You remember the skirt I wore the other day?”

Eddie swallowed visibly, eyes darting to your legs before your face again.

“Yeah.”

“Robin helped me pick it out in June,” you fiddled with your sweater. “She convinced me to wear it the other day, finally, while the weather is still at least a little nice. Anyway, Thomas noticed my skirt. He hasn’t left me alone since. And today, he…”

Eddie took a long drag.

“He grabbed me, grabbed my ass. Fucking pig.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not even, like, scarred by that. You know how ridiculous that is? That I’m not even phased by it anymore?”

Eddie just shook his head, glaring at the ceiling.

“Eddie?”

He wordlessly handed you the joint.

“Toke up, sweetheart.”

You chuckled.

“Jesus, what an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a long drag.

“Someone should—”

“Someone should, but someone won’t.” You looked at him. “They never do.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, biting his lip in concentration.

“Wanna skip the rest of the day?”

“God, yes.”

Th next day, Thomas Reed had a busted lip and a black eye.

#eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x reader #the tutor #eddie fanfic #eddie fic #eddie x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4

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caffeinerabbit · 3 months

Text

(Note: I originally started to write this as a quick and dirty backstory for Latte, which explained why she was chosen as Benji's mentor, and why she behaves the way she does. Once I started writing, however, it was like some floodgate opened and now I have a full blown setting and story arc in my head. I'd love to turn it into a comic, but I don't think I have the patience for that, so I'm giving serious thought about turning it into a multi-chapter illustrated fanfic, with the occasional comic for fun.

In any case, here's the first piece of lore, possibly with more to come. The story continues under the cut, with potential spoilers for down the line - and please forgive the melodrama!)

Latte's Story

Latte is a veteran exploration team member, and in her prime she was considered one of the Guild’s elites. Even though she’s semi-retired now (for reasons) she’s still highly regarded as one of the best, and from time to time the Guild will seek her help when they have a difficult task in front of them.

She’s also a thoroughly unpleasant person. Sarcastic, aloof, and generally unfriendly to most people, she spends much of her time alone, either drinking her days away or just kind of blankly existing.

(And yes, this PMD setting has booze. You can’t tell me that a civilization whose diet consists of 90% berries and fruit hasn’t stumbled upon fermentation.)

When Benji the human-turned-buneary just happens to show up one day and the Guild becomes aware of him, past experience tells them that something bad is about to go down. They know that Benji and his partner Finn need to be brought up to snuff ASAP, and to that end they enlist Latte to act as the duo’s mentor, which she reluctantly accepts after much pleading.

From the moment their eyes meet, Latte and Benji can’t stand one another. Although she’s typically hard to get along with in general, for some reason she takes an immediate and intense dislike of Benji in particular, constantly snarking at him, mocking him when he messes up, and directing a weirdly immense amount of ire his way. For his part, Benji is utterly perplexed as to what exactly he did to piss off this giant rabbit woman, returning her vitriol in kind. Her being the final evolution of his new form doesn’t help matters either, since he’s mildly embarrassed by his current situation, and she’s a reminder of what he has to look forward to if he winds up stuck in the Pokémon world permanently.

Ostensibly, as a lopunny, Latte has a firmer understanding of Benji’s potential capabilities than most, and can train him better than anyone else could. That’s the excuse given, anyway, but it’s only a small part of the whole truth on why the Guild chose her.

Which is that Latte once had her own human partner, and that together they saved the world.

When Latte was still a young buneary, she stumbled upon a hapless human in pokémon form, much in the same way as Finn did with Benji. Although shy, withdrawn, and slow to make friends at the time, she easily formed a fast friendship with the outsider, and he was able to draw her out of her shell. After joining their local Guild and going on multiple adventures together, their bond grew ever closer, with Latte effectively viewing her partner as the center of her world.

Eventually, the big apocalyptic threat that always seems to accompany humans made itself known, and after much grit and determination, Latte and her partner were able to defeat it. Despite the hardship they’d faced up to that point, the relief, pride, and closeness to her partner she felt in that moment left her the happiest she’d ever been in her life, triggering her evolution into a lopunny right there on the spot – an evolution that probably never would have happened if she’d never met her friend and remained that sad, lonely girl back in her home village.

The joy, however, was short lived. With his task fulfilled and his original life waiting for him back home, the higher powers determined to return Latte’s partner to the human world. Not long after the pinnacle of her existence, she watched as her closest and only true friend, the person that gave her life meaning, purpose, and who she was secretly deeply in love with, evaporated into a wispy yellow flow of sparks and energy.

And unlike in the games, he never came back.

Latte’s world was devastated. As the initial shock wore off, in its place took anguish, and a desperate pleading with the higher powers to please, please bring her friend back to her. Pleading that went silently, but firmly, unanswered.

In time, the anguish itself faded into numbness, and Latte again found herself feeling utterly, completely alone. She wasn’t even able to celebrate and take solace in the victory that she and her partner had earned, since the Guild swore her to secrecy lest the populace at large learn just how close it had come to complete annihilation – and in turn learn that this has all happened before, and will likely happen again. Outside of the Guild masters, her vanishingly small circle of friends, and a handful of other people privy to the information, nobody knew that they all owed their lives to Latte and her partner.

Trying to fill the void in her soul and distract herself from depression, Latte doubled down on her Guild work, becoming one of the top Explorers and Rescuers in the world’s Guild system. She eventually realized that she couldn’t remain in her home village and ever hope to become whole again, because everything there reminded her of him. Packing up what little she had, she moved far away to another village whose Guild master was sympathetic to her plight, attempting to build herself a new life.

It didn’t take. Between Guild missions and the bottle, Latte’s life went more or less on auto pilot. She took on fewer and fewer jobs, and eventually only took work when the Guild sought her out specifically. Regardless of his advisors’ grumbling, calling her a freeloader and dead weight, the Guild master made no effort to force Latte to do anything. He knew of the sacrifice she had made, and letting her live her life in what little peace she could muster was the least he could do.

Out of Latte’s numbness, a sense of resentment also took root, growing over time. She and her partner were still effectively children when they went on their adventures, and like most children, the transformed human had an upbeat and unblemished view of the world. He would regale her with stories about his world, about things like airplanes, movies, video games, amusement parks, all the different kinds of food you could ever hope to eat and all the different places you could ever hope to visit - they’d even been to their moon! She held the Earth in awe, and wished that someday, somehow, she could go there as well.

But when the time came, he didn’t take her with him. He got to go home to paradise. She was stuck here.

Alone.

In spite of herself, she found herself growing angry at her long-lost friend. A part of her knew that it wasn’t his fault, that he had no more say in the matter than she did, but nevertheless he had abandoned her. The hurt continued to grow, the resentment hardening ever stronger. How dare he. How dare he.

For several years, this was the internal stalemate in which Latte found herself. Going through the motions of life, doing what was needed of her when asked, drowning her sorrows when left to her own devices. The numbness dulled the resentment most of the time, and she had resigned herself to just playing out the clock on life.

That is, until he arrived.

From the first moment she laid eyes on him, Latte knew exactly what Benji was. His mannerisms, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he held himself. Everyone else might have mistaken him for this clumsy, confused little first stage, but to her it was as glaringly obvious as though she were staring into the sun. And in tow he held another innocent, unsuspecting soul, one that undoubtedly worshiped the ground he walked on. One whose heart would inevitably be shattered into a million pieces and scattered into the wind, never to be made whole again.

All of the anger and resentment that she had fought so hard to bury came flooding back like a tidal wave. All of the broken dreams, all of the unfulfilled promises, of once bright future that now laid forever beyond her grasp. How dare this insipid little bastard come here and cause this to all play out once again. How dare he.

She knew what his being here meant, and knew what was at stake should he fail. With a generous amount of loathing she agreed to mentor the duo and train them for their appointed task, and to do so to the best of her ability. But she would be damned if she allowed history to repeat itself. All she wanted was to get this whole business over and done with, to send this little shit packing back to where he came from.

The sooner, the better.

#pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd #lopunny #buneary #latte #benji #lore #writing #worldbuilding

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wisehearts · 16 days

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will’s been far too sassy lately… someone needs to put him in his place iykwim

oh are we talking sassy, even bratty will? *slides chair right over* I'm so glad you understand.

I feel like mike loves putting him in his place, letting will take up more space in life before having his fun. and mike knows a thing or two about being petulant as a teen, but while will might be an expert at bringing mike back down to earth when he gets snarky around others, will's brattiness - mike has come to learn - is dealt with in other ways.

Mr. hyper observant "you were rolling your eyes, you were moping" can tell those times when will's beginning to catch an attitude, but he won't stop it or save whoever is facing it, no no. Instead there are many amused looks from mike as he lets it play out. he loves the sassy side of will. loves when will's eyes flicker over people, the sound of a little scoff, the way he starts challenging whoever's around him, or getting cheekier knowing people won't actually be mad at him. He loves that when he gets will to look at him, even the glare is puppy dog-like, no real heat to it, not like his own. a raise of mike's eyebrow and will sighs.

Initially, from his own experience, mike can see that a quick kiss (if they're with the party) helps wind will down, but it never quite leaves the same way it does for him. will's calm hand always soothes mike when he gets in a genuinely snippy mood amongst company, it's when they're at home and he's being 'difficult' that he ends up with will sitting on his face, or his dick in his mouth making better use of it. will's sassier moods however... they feel like a game.

there's a particular night, though, where mike and will get home from board games and drinks with the party and are preparing for bed, where mike asks will to toss him his gameboy because he accidentally left it on the dresser will is currently tucking clothes into.

"sounds like a you problem." will says sweetly, and there it is. that tone, that sassiness that had dustin calling over to mike after a simple, tipsy round of topple with will saying "you better do something about his cheating ass!"

so mike does.

will squeaks as mike grabs a wrist and he's yanked across the space and onto their mattress, the look of offence on his face is comical, and mike clambers on top of him, his bigger frame caging him immediately. "what the f-" is all will gets out before mike crushes their lips together, something unexpected to shut will up, before he dives in again slower, slipping his tongue inside will's surprised, pliant mouth. he keeps the kisses deep, licking inside over and over, and when he pulls away will is left silent and blinking up at him. pacified.

"you're in a mood," mike says, grinning, hands either side of will's head. he uses will's split second confusion to hop up and snatch the lube in his bedside drawer, "you have been all night."

"what are you doing?" will asks, but he only gets nudged by mike's hands in response, made to flip over so his ass is sticking up in the air, face pressed into the sheets.

"I'm doing something about it."

...and really, it should be embarrassing to will how quickly he switches up when mike's finished pounding him into the bed, how he hums with content and cuddles up to mike like he hadn't been mouthing off at friends, at mike, for the past couple of hours. how he seems to carry on as normal when he heads to sleep like it wasn't really a consequence, like it's what he actually wanted.

And that's how mike figures out the sass and attitude comes out when will's apparently gone without dick for too long.

#asks 🔮#wb #spicy byler #spicy byler hc

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 7 months

Note

Just read your eridan essay. I left a lot of words in the tags (sorry about that btw. I'm @kitkat-not-karkat, those were my tags) and I just. Holy fucking shit man.

THANK YOU FOR PUTTING IT INTO WORDS. Like. Genuinely. Thank you.

That said, do you have any ideas on why Eridan might specifically flirt as a sort of default response sometimes? (I really hope I'm not misremembering that, the fandom bastardizes the poor guy to be Cronus 2.0-)

I have my own personal speculation here, but I'd love to see your take on it!

I think it's a few things all working in tandem, and I think you definitely nailed at least most of it! I do agree that a huge part of his fixation on romance is the fact that a romantic partner is "supposed" to stick around, and Eridan is simply desperate for attention and friendship.

There are a lot of people who idealize relationships and believe that they're the "fix" or "solution" to their emotional problems, and Eridan's obsession with blackrom in particular (where the caligulas part of his trolltag comes from) definitely has shades of that. A kismesistude is an outlet for violent urges, as well as a romantic interest who ideally doesn't ghost you or leave you alone (cough Vriska cough), and one of the two concupiscent quadrants that needs to be filled so you don't get culled.

An interesting thing is constantly being implied within the comic, which is that moirallegiance is actually kind of the most important quadrant for trolls, but their culture has de-emphasized it in favor of the two breeding-related quads. After all, since adult trolls don't have to raise their own young, what Karkat calls "mating fondness" is biologically much less imperative to their species compared to the quadrant that keeps volatile trolls from going berserk and killing people.

Moirallegiance is always treated with a sort of mysticism - it's called "magical" by the narration in relation to Kanaya and Vriska's moirallegiance while that's still extant, it's the only quadrant described as "soul mates," and in contrast to "mating fondness," Karkat mentions the "mystical forces governing moirallegiance." Moirails - Equius and Nepeta being confirmed, but I genuinely believe that that's what Feferi and Sollux would have resolved to in that hypothetical golden ending - are also the quad that spends the most time together, rather than the two concupiscents. The initial description of the pale quadrant even outright says that the attraction is "instinctive." There's something magical and destiny-laden in a moirallegiance that just isn't there to the same extent in the other three quads.

But in Alternian society, kindness, guilt, and the other kinds of things you'd share with a moirail are considered weakness, especially for highbloods. When Feferi is breaking up with him, Eridan flips out the hardest at the implication that she felt the need to take care of him, insisting that he was perfectly fine. I think this is the reason, in addition to the painful breakup, that Eridan never pursues pale relationships, even though a moirail is what he desperately needs. Instead, he pursues the much more societally acceptible pitch quadrant, which can serve a similar purpose of discharging some of his pent-up aggression.

Moreover, his flirting isn't nearly as relentless as people think it is, although he IS both really stubborn AND really socially inept, which makes it difficult both to get a "no" through his brain, AND to make it stick. Another part of it is that he's operating at very little self-awareness, which means he'll often be doing something without consciously realizing it. Also, he's desperate as hell, and has basically no ability to differentiate good and bad attention. This leads to a pretty messy cocktail that basically means:

He'll hit on anyone at least once (desperation), with the exception of people it would be really weird to hit on, for example, their dancestors, who are way older than them.

If a rejection is not made excruciatingly clear, he probably won't register it as a rejection (dumbassery).

Nearly any attention he gets might be misinterpreted as flirting, even after a rejection is made (desperation, also, can't differentiate between good and bad attention).

Even after a rejection is made and he logically understands it and outright says he respects it, he might still act in a flirtatious way unconsciously (zero self awareness).

Because he will hit on anyone at least once, and is constantly making things weird and leaping to "romance?" even when there's no flirtatious intent, people kind of assume he's always hitting on them, even when he isn't.

His emotions always running at a fever pitch, and the lack of self-awareness he cultivates in order to help deal with his horrible cognitive dissonance, mean that even HE'S not sure about his real feelings. He's always feeling SOMETHING very, very intensely (it's the trauma and anxiety), which he mistakes for true caliginous hatred, or fevered flushed intent. Unlike Cronus, who's basically just trying to get some action, Eridan genuinely feels something for people, and his extreme lack of emotional intelligence means he has no idea how to parse his own tempestuous emotions. He always leaps to feverish concupiscent attraction because that's just how intense his emotions run at any given moment.

#4 is happening to Feferi and Sollux, IMO, while Rose never properly rejected him, so he still thinks they have a chance, and the same happened with Vriska when she started ghosting him post-kismesistude. #5 can be seen in his last memo with Karkat, where Karkat starts to wonder if past!Eridan was redflirting with him by inviting him to LOWAA, even as Eridan himself has no idea what the fuck Karkat is talking about.

Thing is, he DOES actually accept rejections once he gets them through his thick skull, which sets him apart from Cronus, who gets rejected, knows it, and keeps going. It's just... Eridan's messy. His emotions are all over the place, and too big for his stupid body, so he's always making things weird and intense.

I blame his lusus, personally. In a previous post, I talk about how a huge factor in his inability to identify negative attention is because he's basically being emotionally neglected. This has also led to his desperation for attention in general. When combined with the trauma from all the murdering and the pressure society puts on him to fit into a certain mold, it leads to some pretty explosive emotional ourbursts, of which his intense, insistent, and downright uncomfortable flirting is a major facet, but also, only a facet.

#eridan ampora #homestuck

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morganas-pendragons · 2 years

Text

Haven’t We Given Enough? | Joel Miller

Okay, so hear me out. I've known about this game for years but have been exclusively an Xbox kid since like 2004 so I've never had the opportunity to play it. I heard Pedro was cast as Joel and I was shocked that I actually knew the actors playing Joel and Ellie. Saw the trailer, watched the entire first game gameplay, and now I'm here.

Whoops.

I will say this though: I'm really bothered that I could find like nothing but hardcore smut in the tag for this character. I aim to change that. Enjoy some hurt/comfort!

@ironmandeficiency

This is meant for a fem!reader. There are themes of past pregnancy in this that may come back into play later (reader had and lost a child) so if that is something that makes you uncomfortable, read at your own risk.

***

It’s remarkable how similar he is to the very thing you’ve thought him to be since you met. While Ellie is like a summer fire burning across empty, barren fields, Joel is the vengeful, unrelenting snow storm that threatens to pull you apart.

He becomes increasingly good at it the longer you know him. Those dexterous, strong fingers wrap around the rungs of your ribs and pull them apart until the fragile beating thing you call a heart is exposed.

That fragile beating thing has simply endured too much. It’s endured heartbreak, and loss, and pain, and it’s somehow still keeping you alive despite having lived through the beginning of the Outbreak and twenty years into it.

Sheer determination has kept you alive. Not love, not your little sister, just a culmination of all the things you’ve endured that have turned into anger.

It’s not like his anger though. Yours is calm. Methodical. Purposeful.

Joel Miller’s anger is exactly like him: Vengeful, unrelenting, terrifying. It’s only once you meet that your anger begins to temper down into something he has never quite known. Not in this life anyway.

Gentless. Compassion.

Peace.

And well, Joel Miller finds that the longer he knows you, the more he aches to learn what that really means.

It’s weird. You know it’s a weird habit, but you’ve been doing it since you were a little girl and have a difficult time not falling back into old habits. People have often accused you of being aloof. Bashful.

At the very least, people-watching is resourceful and educational. It really teaches you about what to expect from the ones you don’t quite know yet.

People watching was how you found yourself drawn to Joel Miller.

It started whenever Marlene sent Tess and Joel to smuggle the two of you out of the city. You were Ellie’s older sister - born before the Outbreak, almost fifteen years her senior - and her solely remaining blood family since your parents deaths. Your mother’s dying wish had been whispered into your ear with her final breath: Look after your sister.

So you did.

“I will be damned if you even think I’m not going to follow that girl,” You snarled, jabbing your thumb into Marlene’s chest. “That’s my sister. My blood. My promise. You will not take that away from me.”

The Boston QZ was, as to be expected, a literal hell. The only way that you and Ellie were going to survive was if you joined the ranks of the Fireflies. You did. You did, and it ruined you. Any remaining semblance of innocence that you had died years before.

You didn’t want to think about that. It was past, it was gone, just like that part of who you’d been at that point.

All gone. Just like the rest of the world.

Marlene knew better then to argue with a Williams. Where you lacked, Ellie made up for it. It was comical how a fourteen year old girl, in certain situations, had more diplomacy then you did.

She was the one who talked when Joel came into the room for the first time.

“Be careful with that one,” You warned afterward. Marlene snorted as both Williams sisters simultaneously crossed their arms over their chests and leaned into the counter as Joel left the room to confer with his partner. “He’s a storm.”

Ellie knew of your comparisons. She knew of your uncanny ability to read people, to see people, and she’d never doubted you. Not once.

“Funny. First time you told me this, you said I was a fire. If he’s a storm...” She nudged her head uncertainly in the direction Joel had left in. “Then what kind of storm is he?”

Your eyes flutter closed. You’d been able to gauge a lot just from those few minutes of conversation. “Winter,” You reply quietly. “One of those blizzards we got caught in the winter you turned four. Mom and Dad had us hunker down. We didn’t leave the bank we were in for well over a week. Stayed in the safe.” You pause. “If we had even threatened to step into that storm, we would’ve been obliterated. That’s the kind of storm Joel is. Unyielding, vengeful.”

“Your comparisons never fail to amaze me, kid,” Marlene commented. “You’re right on the nose. Watch out for Joel Miller.”

He’s nothing if not ruthless.

***

For the first couple of months you’re forced to travel across the country with Joel, you hate him. You hate how dismissive he is of you and you hate how he continues to act like dragging Ellie to the Fireflies who will then make the cure is the worst inconvenience he can possibly experience.

You hate him. You hate him so much because he seems to be able to see right through you. No one has done that since-

Not since him.

Ellie knows who he is. Joel doesn’t. He doesn’t ask why you sometimes wake up with a cry bubbling in the back of your throat, or why your hands always subconsciously drift toward your ring finger when there’s nothing there.

He also doesn’t ask why your hand is almost always lingering on your stomach when he sees you through the cracks in the doors of the rooms you and Ellie sleep in.

He doesn’t ask.

So you don’t tell.

***

You remember the first time he ever saved you from a clicker on your way through Pittsburgh with Joel, Henry, Ellie and Sam. It’s another one of those instances where you can recall things most other people can't: the details people cannot be bothered to remember.

The smell of the tunnel. Damp. Dark. The smell of infected wafting through your nose, a familiar smell now just like the burnt bodies you so often found permeating the air in the QZ.

The click of the shotgun. The desperate shout of Joel’s voice as he tackled that creature to the ground before firing once, twice, three times into its face while you struggled to regain your breath.

The way that, afterward, he’d tossed the gun into Ellie’s arms to take your own into his hands and survey your skin for bites.

“You good, darlin’?” He’d asked, and your brain short-circuited because this was not the same man who'd spent the last several weeks showing you and your sister nothing but utter disdain and contempt.

“Yeah, yeah... I’m good.” You murmur. “Thanks Joel.”

The most memorable part of that particular day - aside from the sunlight and the way it reflected just right against the grey and white of Joel’s hair and his eyes - was the way you had learned that, underneath the rough exterior, he had the same bleeding heart you did.

***

Jackson is nice. It’s clearly the beginnings of what’s meant to become a larger, thriving civilization somewhere down the line, but it’s the first place you’ve been in the last twenty years that feels calm.

Joel’s entire demeanor changes upon arrival, and it’s not until the gates open that you realize why: The man who steps through - and is clearly one of the few in charge - bears a remarkable resemblance to him.

You and Ellie later find out that it’s Tommy. His younger brother.

The details of that newly made memory are astonishingly clear: The curve of Joel’s smile, the feeling of the sunlight, the laughter that echoes as the three of you are led inside.

For once in the last two decades, you have finally met someone who doesn’t have malicious intent.

“So who’s the older girl, Joel?”

“Kid’s sister,” Joel replied curtly. “That’s it.”

Tommy clucked his tongue and shook his head as they entered the water plant. “I know you better then that,” He argued. “Way you look at her? Not just her sister. You’ll figure it out sooner than later even though that thick skull of yours.”

The plant is attacked by the bandits who have been trying to infiltrate the compound for the last couple of months. Your illusion of peace is shattered as you again are forced to take, take, take, until there’s nothing left but bodies to deal with.

That’s when you find out Ellie is gone. You find out Ellie is gone and for the first time in quite a while, you are properly afraid.

And fear fuels you. Just like anger.

Joel knows anger, but he doesn’t know your anger until he has the gall to tell your little sister she doesn’t know what loss is. It’s unfortunate you manage to hear the entire conversation through the bedroom door while staking out the house to ensure you’re in the clear.

She’d run away from Jackson. Why, you don’t know, but you had been more panic then anything else because it was the first time Ellie had ever attempted to do something like that.

You really just wanted to know her reasoning.

“What do you want from me?!” Joel snaps, harsh and sharp, as he storms deeper into the room.

“Admit that you wanted to get rid of me the whole time! Admit that my sister has been nothing but an inconvenience to you and you’ve felt burdened by us both!”

You can’t see Joel’s face. You can’t see his face, but you see the way his body reacts to that statement. He’s trying really hard to keep himself under control. It’s admirable.

They argue for what feels like years. Ellie calls him out, again and again, only to be stonewalled by Joel’s incessant need to keep everyone at arms length and provide as little information about himself and his feelings as possible.

What causes you to storm into the room is the statement that makes the whole world grind to a stop.

“I’m sorry about your daughter, Joel... but I have lost people too.”

“You have no idea what loss is.”

Ellie’s entire aspect shifts into something akin to both horror and shock as you storm into the room, fury radiating from your features, to only then whip Joel Miller around and slap him in the face.

Your handprint burns against his cheek as he stares at you slack jawed, raising his own hand to cradle him jaw. Joel’s seen you do a lot of things. He’s seen you kill, and he’s seen you comfort, but he’s never bore witness to the heart of the storm itself.

He immediately regrets provoking the argument now.

“El,” You say quietly, fury dripping from your words as you grip his shirt with tight fingers. “Go downstairs and join Tommy. Now.”

Ellie doesn’t argue. She never has because she knows better. With a curt nod, your little sister evacuates the room like a flood has just fallen upon it to leave you - the gentle storm versus the vengeful one - alone with Joel.

“Sunshine-”

“Don’t.” You snarl. “Don’t you dare. You don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to telling her she doesn’t know what loss is, you sanctimonious egotistical-” Your hands pound against his chest, once, twice, three times. Every hit makes you just a little more tired. “We all know what loss is, Joel! You’re not the only one who’s had to deal with the funerals!”

Funerals.

Huh.

Snatching your hands with his own, Joel’s response is quiet and extremely unnerving as he murmurs, “We didn’t have funerals. We just burned them.”

You don’t have time to reply. There’s people in the house, and you’re left to slip back into your mask as you remove your gun from its holster and flick the safety off.

You don’t spare Joel a second glance.

***

It’s another dead end. Another dead end full of questions and no answers that leave you asking more that no one seems to be able to give you. There might be nothing here but bodies and unanswered questions, but it does give you one thing that makes it memorable.

The way that Ellie has smiled more now than she has since your parents and Riley died. You don’t try to intervene, to make yourself apart of what are undoubtedly her memories to carry, so you watch.

It’s enough.

It’s pretty straight forward into the University - nothing, nothing, and more nothing - until you’re ambushed by another group that has you and Joel fighting hand to hand for the first time in a while.

You’ve only just managed to incapacitate yours when a resounding crash sounds from outside, and you just barely see the telltale salt-and-pepper hair go careening over the edge of the balcony.

Seeing Joel like that.. That’s the second time you’ve known the same fear in such a short amount of time: Fear of loss.

There’s me, the fool with the slow heart who dared to think I could love someone else again.

***

The storms feels like it’s dwindling now. Like it’s simply the kind you get in the early hours of the morning in December, where the clouds are thick and gray and cover the entire sky as snow slowly falls to stick upon the chilled earth.

Joel Miller has been this unyielding, fierce storm that threatens to tear everything apart from the moment you met him in Boston. He’s cold. Calculating. Sharp. You’ve seen what he’s capable of - and reacted quite violently the first time, you hadn’t realized the human body held that much blood - and have experienced the ramifications of what such things can do.

The nightmares, the abrasiveness, the need to push everyone away because it’s simply easier than allowing yourself to love something that death can touch.

You’ve always known Joel to be a storm, but since Ellie - and you, though you just don’t know it yet - have wormed into his heart, the storm has dwindled. It’s gentler. Softer. More willing to listen to reason, to fight for something other then himself.

The rough exterior that turns so many people away is slowly giving to show who’s under the surface.

You were almost positive that your heart was going to give out when you watched Joel fall from Ellie’s horse. You’d barely been able to do anything about the wound he’d obtained from the rebar at the university, using what meager means of medical supplies you had in your saddlebags to pack and dress it so the bleeding stopped.

Ellie had watched you from the top of Callus as you carried him to the horse and slowly eased him into her arms.

“Do you think he’s gonna make it?” She asked you later, long after you’d lost sight of the school over your shoulder.

“I hope so, El.” You reply quietly. “I don’t know what we’ll do if he doesn’t.” It’s half a truth with a confession hidden in between of your true feelings toward the matter. You’d spent so much time watching Joel - learning about the inner workings of a man your heart aches to know, to heal, to love - that you weren’t sure what you’d do if his steady, sure presence wasn’t around anymore.

The three of you have made your home inside a garage in an abandoned neighborhood when the snowfall hits. Ellie volunteers to take care of the horses while you situate yourself and Joel into a crude attempt of a sleeping situation inside, pushing two of the remaining mattresses together and scrounging up blankets for you to shield yourselves from the cold.

You don’t like how pale he is. His wound isn’t infected, which is good, but his heartbeat is too weak and you can’t help yourself from feeling somewhat responsible.

“Joel Miller,” You whisper, long after Ellie is gone and it’s just the sound of uneven breathing and the pounding of your heart from where you lay curled around him on the pair of mattresses. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself into my blood stream. You’re not allowed to give up on me. On us. Do you understand?”

Joel doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t answer. You don’t expect him to, but part of you wishes he’d open those dark brown eyes and gaze up at you with all the longing and desperation you’ve felt towards him since... since.

The bitter cold that settles in your bones is an alarming reminder that you need to curl around Joel to preserve body heat. Last thing you need is him dying of hyperthermia.

“Don’t leave us,” You whisper again, curling your fingers into his hair as you tuck your body around his own and press your chin against the top of his head. “Don’t leave us.”

We can’t take another funeral.

***

The first time Joel wakes up is the day before Ellie leaves for another hunting trip. She’s scrounged up a meager amount of supplies through the houses in the neighborhood, just enough for you to get by, but you can’t help but feel the weight of the guilt settling in your stomach when you hear Ellie’s stomach growl halfway through the night.

It’s not like you’re sleeping anyway.

Joel’s sudden state of awareness is brought upon by the fingers raking through his hair and the warmth that touches his skin from the body wrapped around him. It’s odd, foreign. After so many years of isolating himself from other people, he hadn’t realized how much he craved physical contact.

And the burn that follows is enough to make him groan.

“Joel?” Immediately your hands are at his sides, Ellie’s face just above his head as his vision swims. The pain is muted. Numb. He’s barely feeling is because he’s far too distracted by your hands. “Can you hear me? I’m going to check your wound again. If you stay awake enough, I want you to eat.”

Ellie has taken his head into her lap before he can protest. Joel is awake just enough to say your name, low and hoarse, before his vision swims with black spots and the last thing he can remember is the burn.

He can remember the burn, and he can remember how you made him feel in the midst of it. Peaceful. Safe.

Joel Miller has never known peaceful or safe. Not since her. Not since Sarah.

And as he succumbs to sleep, he finds that he wants to know it more.

***

Ellie’s been gone for too long. You know she’s been gone for too long, and you haven’t heard from her on the walkies the two of you had found a couple of weeks before.

She’s been gone too long. You need to go find her.

That’s the second and final time Joel wakes up.

You’re halfway through loading his shotgun when he finally comes to, wide eyed and alert as his hands scramble for purchase on the closest weapon to him. “Easy, Joel,” You chide gently. “It’s just me.”

Something settles in him. He seems at ease with your answer.

“Where’s-” Joel grunts as he sits up, pressing a hand to his side as he does so. You ease the shotgun to the side and kneel down to his level to meet the worry in his gaze. “Where’s Ellie?”

Your frown deepens. “She went out to hunt too long ago,” You reply. “I was just about to secure this place and then go look for her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You fidget nervously with your hands as your gaze drops into your lap. “I didn’t want to leave you alone, Joel.”

He wants to scold you. Joel wants to chastise you for such a foolish decision when your sister’s life is on the line, but he can’t find it in him to do so because your gaze is so genuine. He’s not used to that.

Joel Miller is not used to real.

Pressing a gentle thumb to the divot in your chin, you’re captivated by the way the condescension and hostility in his demeanor is gone as he slowly moves his fingers to cup the curve of your jaw. “Thank you,” He murmurs gratefully. “But now we need to go find Ellie.” A pause. “Are you ready to do what we need to do, if it gets bad?”

He always asks you this. Right before he has to embrace the side of himself that scares you, that you’ve tried so hard to keep at bay, Joel warns you about it.

“Yeah. Yeah...” You pump the shotgun in response and press it against your hip. “Yeah, I am.”

It’s uncanny how quickly you’ve learned how to slip into your masks. The mask of the gentle, compassionate woman that Joel had only just gotten to know disappears in the face of the violence he’s so accustomed to - shifting into something darker, more apathetic, more willing to do what needs to be done.

Even for the sake of one life.

You don’t even flinch when he starts torturing two of the men patrolling the neighborhood you’ve called home for the last few days. Not when the screaming starts. not when the blood pours.

“Now, the girl. Is she alive?”

“What girl? I don’t know no girl!”

The poor idiot doesn’t start talking until Joel has driven his blade clear through his knee. According to his endless rambling, your kid sister has become the newest pet to someone named David.

And that makes you see red.

You don't blink twice when both bodies lay motionless on the ground.

“Hey Joel?”

“Yeah, sunshine.”

“When we find this David,” You drag your fingers across the expanse of his shoulders to rest them on the exposed skin of his neck. His pulse thrums steadily under your touch. “I’m going to be the one to put the bullet in his face.”

***

The storm has died down to a newly fallen December snow. The temper has eased, and the anger has dissipated - only to be directed toward the people who are most deserving of it - into something that searches, that yearns, for something.

Snow melts. Snow melts and reveals what lays beneath it.

You’re just inside of the Salt Lake City limits when it happens. You’re the one who volunteered to take watch while Joel and Ellie slept. The three of you were nearly in the endgame now being so close to the Firefly hospital. Once your sister was taken there, the world would finally be saved.

And you could finally settle. No more running, no more existing.

Chewing absently on the inside of your cheek, you fiddle with the edge of your rifle from your lookout point over your camp. You’re almost too deep into your thoughts to hear him scream.

But he doesn’t just scream. Joel screams Sarah’s name, and everything becomes astonishingly clear as to why he has been the way he is. Ellie had told you about Tommy trying to slip Joel the last photo of him and his daughter before the outbreak. How he’d refused it. How he, to this day, remained adamant that his departed little girl would never be a topic of conversation.

No one warns you about the loss of a child.

“Easy, Joel,” You warn, shouldering your rifle as you climb down from the tree to sit beside the bed. His shaking fingers are wrapped tightly around the hilt of his blade. “There’s just a couple of hours until the sun comes up. You thirsty?”

Dark eyes flicker to the next bedroll. Ellie is still sleeping.

“No,” He replies gruffly. “But thanks.”

There’s a long moment of companionable silence that passes as you sit beside him, finally feeling courageous enough to spill your heart at his feet, “For all those months when we started this, I hated you. I hated you because you clearly hated me-”

“First off,” Joel interjects sharply. “Never been a time in which I hated you. Don’t know what gave you that assumption.”

“So if it wasn’t hate, then what was it? I’m not an expert at reading Joel Miller,” You shrug. “At least not yet.”

The sun is just beginning to creep over the edges of the three line in front of you. The sky above is shifting from the deep black to a soft, gentle blue that will shift into the golds and oranges of dawn.

You’re running out of time.

Joel swallows the knot in his throat as he contemplates his answer. Giving the real answer means being real and vulnerable. He’s not sure if he’s ready for that yet.

He’s not sure if he’s ready for that but with the open, earnest way you’re looking at him? He’ll get there eventually.

“Sarah was my daughter,” Joel says quietly. He can’t look at you. If he looks at you while he says this he will come apart at the seams. “She died at the start of the epidemic. Longer that goes by, more I’m almost.. grateful.” The words are sour on his tongue. It sounds so wrong. “She was too good for a world like this one. Too pure. Any kind of innocence I had was gone a long time ago. I was made for this kind of life,” His eyes slowly shift to meet yours. You haven’t taken your gaze off of his face once. “You and Ellie weren’t.”

You smile. “That’s sweet, Joel. Really. But you could not know-”

“I do know. I know because you have something that doesn’t exist anymore.’’

You tip your head to the side in confusion. “Which is?”

“Goodness. Compassion. You’re real,” Joel pauses, running his tongue along his teeth. “That’s why it looked like I hated you. I hated you because I was afraid of how real you are. How gentle you are.”

“Why would that be something you’d fear?” You ask softly.

“Because I don’t deserve that kind of thing, Sunshine. Goodness? Compassion? All the soft things that died with my little girl?” He shakes his head. “Those aren’t something you give to someone like me.”

You’d noticed over the last couple of months that every time you touched Joel, he recoiled like he had been burned. You’d seen that before too. It was the look often accompanied by the quiet desire to seek more of something you’d been deprived of: The look of a touch starved man.

It was why you’d been more deliberate in starting slow. Cheek touches, chin touches, gentle fingers raking through his hair to scrape across his scalp and kisses to bloodied knuckles on the nights things were bad.

If he wanted real, if he wanted peace, you were more then willing to give it to him.

“I had a son,” You whisper. This is not something you are ready to divulge to Ellie. Not yet. “He was born around the same time she was, though she never knew it,” Something akin to realization flickers through his eyes before he’s opening his mouth to apologize, most likely, but you hush him with a raised hand as you continue. “He died before he ever turned one.”

You didn’t want to continue. It was still too fresh. Too raw. He would’ve been fifteen soon.

Joel took your hand into his own and spread your fingers apart, dragging the tips of his own fingers across the back of each of yours before lifting them to his lips to kiss all your fingertips.

“They have a word for someone who’s lost a spouse. What do you call someone who lost a child?”

And there it is, that quiet understanding you share that makes you ache to pull back what remains of his walls and finally reveal the man who lay underneath.

You hum thoughtfully as you then lean forward to just barely graze your lips against his cheek.

That’s also the same time Ellie decides to wake up. She sees the way your silhouettes cast across the grass as the rays of early morning light emerge from over the trees. She sees the way Joel leans into you like he’s seeking something, and she sees the way scarlet dusts your cheeks when you finally pull away.

Hm.

Seems like you’ve finally found what you’re looking for.

***

Everything finally feels right. You’ve finally started down a path that ends with Joel realizing that you love him, with Joel realizing that he’s deserving, and with you hopefully realizing that he’s been reciprocating for quite some time.

The three of you are at the hospital in Salt Lake after being caught in the flood. You’re the one who took the most damage. Battered and bruised, Joel is left to watch helplessly from your bedside as you sleep. He’d only just woken up himself in the same state.

Marlene comes in much, much later to tell you what’s going on with Ellie. What the real cure is, what it will do to her.

And suddenly, again, everything comes screeching to a halt.

This is the story of how, despite everything between you and Joel going right, everything begins to go wrong and you’re left with a decision that will inevitably cost you your sister.

All of those lives, for the sake of one.... is it worth it?

Haven’t I given enough?

part two??? :D

#The Last of Us #tlou #tlou1 #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x Reader #Joel x Reader

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sciderman · 7 months

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thinking about what if situations, dunno why but I have the image in my head of Uncle Ben with Pete in hospital after he over does it doing Spider-man shit, Ben's worried. At the hospital, Ben meets a very uncertain Wade Wilson, suffering in his hospital bed with a cancer diagnosis, thinking about if going into the Weapon X program is genuinely worth it, they start talking. Ben talks about life, about how you shouldn't survive just to be alive, you should survive so you can live. Ben doesn't tell him to join the weapon X but he doesn't tell him not too, they just have a genuine deep talk about both sides until Ben needs to go back to Peter. I can literally hear Wade going, “That was fucking stupid", in his head, all that sentimental spiritual shit.. But.. It genuinely does help him, whether he realises it or not. Dunno, just like the idea of it, maybe years later when Peters talking about Uncle Ben, Wade finally feels brave enough to tell him about the time in hospital where he spoke to him.

hmm. i really think the "survive to live" philosophy isn't exactly a very uncle ben coded message. i think uncle ben doesn't embody that - he's a very selfless guy. he will put the needs of others above his own, always. he's like peter in that way - or, at least, peter wants to be like uncle ben. wants to be selfless, like uncle ben was. and he's actually not very good at it. he has to work at it. and it's difficult.

i think the "survive to live" philosophy aligns more with aunt may. aunt may is more about the self, and personal happiness - even though she's a nurse and she's very nurturing and selfless too. aunt may is kind of a free spirit - in fact, i think aunt may and wade have a very similar approach to life and love, and i had written a WHOLE lot of scripts about that. that aunt may and wade - they're kind of obscenely alike. that aunt may didn't know if she could make compromises and be selfless enough to succeed in love.

there are a lot of parallels between what wade and peter are going through, and how ben and may were, as dumb kids. may was a kind of free-spirit, who didn't actually see herself as settling down with ben parker. but ben was a patient, loving, supportive man, who waited for her.

a parker boy doesn't give up on love. he'll stupidly hang on, forever and ever.

I think there’s an irony to that “survive to live” philosophy being the entire wholeass opposite of what peter takes away from the death of uncle ben.

I can’t really speak to uncle ben’s philosophy - I don’t think “great power great responsibility” in whatever way he said it (or didn’t say it - remember, in the comics it was never actually said by uncle ben) - peter definitely took his own lesson from uncle ben’s death and I don’t think it was meant by uncle ben at all. in fact, i think wade might have even been onto something when he said -

obviously uncle ben wouldn’t say that. but - fact is, great power great responsibility is a self-imposed lesson from peter. and it has very little to do with what uncle ben actually meant when he said it in 9319.

I think uncle ben might’ve meant that peter had a responsibility to the people in his life. and a responsibility to himself. that he couldn’t just - disengage with life and shut himself away from it and avoid things and run away from things. it's actually a lesson that is hammered into peter over and over again, and a mistake he keeps repeating.

he uses his responsibilities as spider-man as an excuse to run away from his responsibilities as peter parker.

i think uncle ben would've been disappointed to see all the mistakes peter made with the people he's loved. all the secrets and lies he's kept - uncle ben was a chronically honest man. but he was a simple guy - he didn't have any secrets. may - may's more understanding about it. she knows sometimes secrets are necessary, at a time.

i think it's awesome and sexy that, finally - all the elements are coalescing so that peter will finally learn the lesson that uncle ben actually intended for him to learn.

sorry, i went off on a tangent again. but man, i should finish those wade/may posts. may is so, so good for wade. she'll heal him. i think all wade needed was the love of a mother.

#sci speaks #ask-spiderpool #meta

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they-breasted-boobily · 1 month

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Ways the plot of tua s4 could have been improved while including a lot of the same storyline:

It goes without saying that a 6 episode season was too rushed for even the shitty plot we got given, but I'll mention that these ideas would have worked better for an 8-10 episode season. Or maybe you could use them for fics or comics- I'd love to see them!

1. The careers and new lives of non-powered umbrellas: While Lila, Klaus, and Viktor had decent set-ups, the others seemed out of place. Diego's personality and desire to be a hero would have been better suited to a mall cop or traffic cop, where he feels undervalued and underutilised, rather than just beaten down as a delivery driver for jokes about peeing in a bottle. Luther only mentioned Sloane a couple of times in the entire series- with more than 6 episodes, it could have been possible to give flashbacks of him trying to get back to her, but her not recognising him and not being romantically interested. Not sure what changes could be made to his job or housing though. Allison's setup was mostly fine, but we really should have been given an explanation for why Raymond left- maybe lean into the horror of being taken from your time and timeline raising a daughter you suddenly have? Five would not work for the CIA except as a double-agent, either that or he would be retired as a fishing supplies store owner. Ben is his own whole point later in this post.

2. The marigold sake shots: I feel like this plot point added to Ben just being an asshole and scapegoat for the entire season, which could benefit from major changes. If left relatively unchanged, the fact that Klaus threw it over his shoulder could have led to greater implications if it landed on an unknown person behind them and gave them powers. This person could have been the subject of an episode or two as they were tracked down when it was necessary.

3. Ben's character: While s3 Sparrow Ben was a dick, he was not as edgy, conceited, or self-absorbed as he was in s4. I think it's fine to start his arc with him leaving prison, but making the crime as major as crypto fraud (just because you think it's funny) makes it much more difficult for him to seem likeable and relateable to Jessica or anyone else. If the crime was something more minor, or he was framed/unfairly jailed it could set up a revenge/redemption arc from the get-go. With his relationship with Jessica, it would have benefited from being more of a slow burn, or if the gradual unnatural obsession had more than 6 episodes to build up.

4. The subway romance: While I can almost understand why it was Five and Lila due to their history working together and especially using time travel together, I think if Five needed a romance (which I don't but show writers can't stand having one member of the main cast never being in a relationship), it should have been someone he met while on that 7 year subway adventure (probably an older woman) and settled with in Strawberry Tradwife timeline while Lila keeps looking for a way out for the sake of her children. Lila would find the journal a few months later and using both it and the subway map, get back to Five because she still needs his powers to get entirely out of the subway system. Could you imagine a scene with Lila trying to convince Five to leave the peaceful Strawberry Tradwife life he's always wanted after dealing with the trauma of being stuck in time twice?

5. Klaus's return to addiction: I think Klaus's arc could have definitely benefited from the season being longer. If there was a slower burn towards his addiction returning and his confrontation with Claire and if she stressed more that he didn't need to go down this path again, it could have really been impactful. The ghost sex trafficking thing was gross but if that was the only way to get him buried alive then so be it, because having him in a situation where he would have to directly face his trauma from the mausoleum and become stronger would be so good for the sendoff of his character. Maybe that could have been the point where he learned how to levitate?

6. Reginald and false memories: Why was the fact that he's literally not human and crafted this timeline so he could have as much power as possible (including a militia town) not explored at all? The plot should have revolved a lot more around at least verifying what he was saying about marigold and durango, if not about handing him a final defeat for this final season. Everything around him killing Ben led to huge plot holes (why wouldn't Klaus know the truth from Ben's ghost? Ben easily could have been spared and only Jessica shot. Why was Jessica being in a squid never explained?). While it's interesting to see the Umbrellas all give a brainwashed explanation for Ben's death, it couldn't be something as blatant as that, because Klaus would have to know even if everyone else was brainwashed. The brainwashing is an idea with promise, but it should have been something like Ben and Jessica being consumed by the giant squid together because Ben went against orders.

What other things could have been changed? I personally liked the CIA subplot, especially as it taught Diego to appreciate his family more. I also found Jean and Gene and the Cleanse conspiracy theorists to be fun new mini-villains.

#tua #tua s4 #tua s4 spoilers #tua s4 speculation #the umbrella academy

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riftfic · 1 year

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17. Epilogue

The end is here.

Thank you, everyone, for staying with me till now. I've made two additional illustrations buried in the text below. :)

Happy Anniversary, Undertale. 💙

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An incandescent future unfolded over the course of that year. Though far too familiar events repeated with frustrating familiarity, they arrived in new packages: some in bright and colorful wrapping, some in grossly damaged bags. Even if confusing and often jarring, most monsters expressed gratitude to have familiar yet unfamiliar lives awaiting. The additional security and a world more accepting allowed them to press on with more comfort than expected.

Not all were as fortunate. Several returned to lives in pieces. Lost relationships. Humans that knew them, loved them, and had aged beyond them. Photographs of small children they might never conceive. Tombstones engraved with names of the living . . . sometimes their own.

At first, Asgore and Toriel tried to shield you from the responsibility. This level of accountability, they said, should not rest on a child’s small shoulders. No one needed to know about your hand in the broken clock.

You didn’t see it that way. Not knowing why their lives had been stolen, left wondering if their relationships could be undone again, only festered the wound. So you explained to them what had happened and why, and swore that it would not and could not happen again. Amazing, how forgiving monsters could be—not that they all were.

For three months, HEART continued its search for monsters left behind. The moment Sans had recovered, he had jumped at the chance to join Papyrus and Undyne among their ranks. His unique teleportation magic served them well once he had a feel for those snaking, unfamiliar shafts and pathways. Places once difficult to reach suddenly became accessible. Dozens of monsters and their families owed him thanks, especially those trapped deep in the Ruins.

None of them were Wingdings.

With this and all else he had set in motion to free them, monsterkind quickly came to love and respect Sans in a way he had never truly experienced. Sure, he had been a recognizable face in the local comic scene, the friendly smile at Grillby’s every other night, the playful hotdog peddler in Hotland, sentry and judge for the royal family, but never . . . this. If the swath of gifts and well wishes in his hospital room hadn’t been enough proof, Asgor went far enough as publicly honoring him. He hadn’t knighted him, thankfully—a fact Sans could not celebrate more—but he did proclaim something more touching than that.

He named a star.

As a human, the first mention of this honor had underwhelmed you. Humans named stars all the time for science, for romance, for shits and giggles. What you hadn’t understood was that, to monsters, this meant far more than looking up and picking a distant flicker.

Their people had evolved from stardust. While humans had a touch of this magic in them, monsters churned with this fire as their lifeblood. The celestial bodies, their very beginnings, were esteemed with enough reverence to be gods.

Their banishment to the Underground had been especially cruel for this fact, and after such a long separation from the sky, marking their reunion with a new light was more than fitting. After all, when someone’s name was thought with enough intent in so many hearts, a star wasn’t only named; it was born.

It was bright and it was beautiful. When viewed through his telescope, it nestled in a pocket of blue and gold fringed in red, much like the Ring Nebula, only light years from a star they had once named after you.

“i don’t get it,” he admitted to you after the fact. “all i did was make up for somethin’ i did wrong. my motivations weren’t exactly heroic either.”

“Not all knights wear armor, Sir Sans the Star.”

“heh . . . and just what’re you gettin’ at, fair frisk the fart?”

You laughed. “It doesn’t matter why you did it,” you said. “You still did it. You brought back the dead, Sans. You deserve to be thanked for that, don’t you?”

You knew Asriel hadn’t been the one he wanted to resurrect. Even after the members of HEART had disbanded, he delved into the dark in search of Wingdings until his phalanges bled and his magic ran dry. All of you had begged him to relent, Asgore more than anyone. Not until every inch of the Underground’s remains had been scoured did he finally lose hope.

At least now, his brother’s name did not wither from memory like a dream in the morning light. For the first time, he could mourn him freely. He could share memories with those who knew him, find understanding in kindred spirits, and heal.

As one year on the surface came to a close, he finally found the courage to destroy the machine.

The spring sun crisped dewdrops from dandelions as you and Sans strode across his overgrown lawn. The skeleton brothers’ house, a cozy little two story chalet, stood half embedded in the steep hillside behind you. Its stilted, elevated porch overlooked miles of green forest and a babbling river inlet at the knoll’s foot, just as he had remembered. A long road wound atop the hill’s peak, passing from driveway to driveway to outline a comfortably spaced neighborhood. In the distance, Mount Ebott reached among smaller peaks for white clouds in a gold and pink sky.

Under your arms, you each carried a folded mesh lawn chair. Matte black aviator sunglasses masked Sans’ eyes, though a cyan glow smoked behind the left lens. A pair of bright purple shields blocked your own. Following behind in a cloud of blue magic, the rusty, tattered block of a machine he called a “temporal flux manipulator” hovered helplessly a meter off the ground.

A safe distance from the coyote bushes dotting the property line, Sans shook out his chair and tossed it down beside a patch of naked buckwheat. You followed suit and plopped into your seat.

“countdown?” Sans requested.

Before you could start, he had flung the machine unceremoniously upward, nearly thirty feet into the air. At its very peak, he voided his magic. It plummeted into a satisfying cacophonous crash of metal and glass, as if a double decker had smashed into a brick wall.

“Three,” you said.

Two Gaster Blasters materialized over his shoulders.

“Two.”

Their unhinged jaws pooled white-hot energy in their gullets.

“One.”

Those wild-eyed dragon skulls unleashed two furious jets of dangerous magic. The light reflected in your sunglasses. Screams of raging power overwhelmed the once peaceful ambiance of nature. You both watched impassively, but perhaps just a little smugly, as what had once been a marvel of science was pummeled down into a flaming mess.

The blasters dissipated, appeased. Both natural and magical fire burned high like a bonfire in front of you. You popped open a bag of marshmallows. Sans, meanwhile, emptied an old yellow envelope into the flames, then shrugged and tossed in the sleeve as well. Blueprint after blueprint shriveled away to embers, never to be crafted again.

“erase that, ya fat gameboy,” he muttered.

Just as he reclined in his chair, a sputter of laughter spooked him out of it again.

“That was five years of our lives and 20 million G in government funding you just blew up.”

Sans whipped around, eye sockets wide and empty. You followed his gaze. The uncooked marshmallow you had been too impatient to wait for fell from your lips.

A lanky skeleton stood somewhat removed behind your chairs, clinging to a small paper bag and his own wrist. An orange laminate wristband hung above his bony palm, rugged from wear, and another rested alongside it in white. The sleeves of his loose, plum colored button-up had been pushed up to his elbows; the buttons down his torso had been fastened incorrectly, off by one. Something like apprehension and hesitation lit the small lights of his eyes, so similar to Sans’ and yet worlds apart.

Sans’ hand shook audibly as he peeled the sunglasses from his face.

Wingdings looked exactly the same as he had nearly a century ago—no longer melted, his body whole—even if those awful cracks still split his skull. They had been mended, only scars now behind a thin but large pair of lopsided circular glasses. Though he had seemed joyful a moment ago, his smile slowly slipped away.

At his heels, a small white dog panted happily. Far behind, at a bend in the road, a black Lincoln idled in park. Asgore stood leaning on the car door, watching from afar.

“I guess,” Wingdings eased past the silence, “it worked. Kind of. In a roundabout way. Basically, I was right; you were wrong. Congrats to me.” A small smile split his face again and his shoulders twitched upward. “Hooray,” he lilted weakly.

Sans had been creeping cautiously nearer, trembling, tracing that silhouette with the star of his left eye. Only inches apart, he touched the wristbands. The white one listed his name, his species, a mental hospital, and an admittance date—almost nine months ago. The orange band simply stated, “SUPERVISION REQUIRED.”

Sans’ face was wet before he realized why. Every thought and feeling had been swept away until now.

“did you really come all the way from the void,” he hardly breathed, “just to rub it in my face?”

Wingdings stared down at him a long moment before his eyelights circled up into a cinched brow. He shrugged again. “Yes?”

Sans bubbled with laughter then, and Dings bubbled back. Next thing you knew, they were piled in each other's bones on the ground, happy, relieved, home. The Annoying Dog danced joyful doggy circles around them with a wildly flapping tail.

From his vantage point, Asgore smiled with relief and found the resolve to approach.

“Oh, hey,” Wingdings said brightly when he noticed you nearing. “One sec.”

He opened the paper bag and rustled around inside. The sound of pill bottles jostling like rain sticks only distracted you a moment before he surfaced something both considerate and serendipitous. Chocolate. Your favorite. A big, thick bar of the good stuff, the kind that melted in the mouth and made for soft and perfect s’mores. Your mouth salivated as you took the brick into your hands. The two of you were going to get along fine.

“One square at a time,” Asgore instructed you firmly.

You nodded.

“nine months?” Sans lamented playfully, tugging at the band around his brother’s wrist. “i coulda given birth by now. what happened? where were you? why . . .” Joy siphoned out of him. “why didn’t i know?”

At this, the anxious guilt Wingdings had forgotten sprang to life again.

“I’ll explain.” Asgore’s broad shoulders blocked the sun like a monument. His large though gentle voice stilled them all.

“Your majesty, I can . . .”

“I am no longer ‘your majesty,’” the great boss monster interrupted Wingdings with a smile. “I am your friend.”

Dings relented, then, even if he fidgeted with the tags wrapped around his ulna and radius. Sans took his hand hostage.

Shortly before Sans had joined HEART, a small team had discovered Wingdings deep in the remnants of Waterfall. They had nearly given up their search when an annoying white dog barked after them ceaselessly. It led them to a dark alcove behind watery curtains, where Wingdings lay huddled in a corner, confused and nearly starved.

“I was all bone,” Wingdings interjected shyly, but no one smiled.

When he received the call that yet another skeleton had been unearthed, Asgore had raced to meet them almost as fast as he had run to meet you—but what he found was not the reunion he had hoped for. His smart, clever friend had been whittled down to a frightened creature with an ever fracturing hold on reality. With the breaking of the barrier, more than his grip on the rift had slipped loose. His mind had lost its bearings into a whirlwind of relentless psychosis. Excluding his early years in the void, Wingdings could not remember enduring an episode darker than this.

Though warned of Wingdings’ catatonia and incoherency, the king of the underground immediately requested to visit him. He was glad he did. Something about seeing Asgore snapped Wingdings out of his stupor and into a brief moment of clarity, long enough to ask for help . . . and beg for the news not to escape, not even to Sans.

“I didn’t want to be seen like that, marbles all over the floor,” Dings said. “And if I couldn’t be helped, well . . . I thought it would be better to stay forgotten.”

‘i didn’t forget you.” Sans’ grip on his brother’s hand tightened. “i mourned you. i thought you were dead.”

‘I’m sorry.”

“I should have told you, Sans,” said Asgore. “Right away. I was torn . . . and the longer I put it off, the harder it became.”

Sans took measure of his heartache and decided it wasn’t worthwhile to blame them, not now. He had learned to forgive Asriel; he could absolve his brother and Asgore of this one misstep. He let the warmth of that metal bonfire and the sight of Wingdings’ tired face smooth over his soul.

“you don’t gotta apologize,” he sighed. “it sounds . . . scary.”

Windings nodded meagerly, but did not elaborate.

Asgore had placed him in a special care ward under the brightest human and monster minds he could assemble. Thankfully, humans had already researched three years ahead on this front. With their combined understanding of monster and human anatomy, they found a combination of physical and magical treatment that worked enough to stabilize him. The rest relied on therapy.

“I’ll have sessions twice a week,” said Dings. “Asgore already agreed to take me, so if you have reservations . . .”

“reserva—the hell are you talking about?” Sans said. He had gripped his little brother by the shoulders, then, harsh at first but quickly gentle. Tears beaded in his eyes. “you think a little hot water’s gonna scare me off? you’ll be lucky if you get me off your heels!”

“It’s not over,” Windings said shakily. “I’m not cured. Something like this doesn’t just go away. It . . . sleeps.”

Sans deflated, then softly clutched him to his chest. Dings lowered his eyes, melting touch-starved into arms he had once lost hope in feeling.

“i know,” Sans answered calmly. “and when it wakes up you don’t gotta face it solo. you’re not alone in the dark anymore. you’re home.”

Sans inhaled deeply, mercifully, as if he hadn’t truly breathed since the day he lost him. Saying the words aloud had released something inside him like puncturing a balloon. Everything felt pure and new: the weight of his brother in his arms; the scent of him intermingled with the neighbor’s freshly-cut grass; the warmth of his breath amid the late summer sunlight bleaching his skull; the glow of his eyes against the bonfire flickering strange their shadows. Nothing would let him forget this, not even the stars that began to glimmer out of hiding.

“you’re home,” he said again, and this time his voice rattled with joy.

Wingdings held him very tightly then, desperately, and with it Sans knew he shared the sentiment. He smiled truly, deeply, never more whole, and hid it for himself in folds of wine purple cloth.

“you made it.”

The End

Hear me now, hope you're listening It's been centuries, least what it seems to me I've been on this road, my eyes glistenin' Our past don't matter, I'm much stronger And fly much farther, soar overseas Finally, see, I'll keep on climbing Ridin' the lightning and I am sure

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I told myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me But this is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

I've been goin', goin' in circles Reoccurring dreams, talkin' in my sleep Then I'm floatin' up to the surface I can finally breathe, I could do anything And I don't know why it's all right And it's not at the same time Then I look up at a blue sky And I know

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I tell myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me This is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

"Lovin' Me" - Kid Cudi feat. Phoebe Bridgers

That's it. That's the end. :')

This has been an amazing journey. Thank you, thank you so much for reading through to the end.

I've been considering starting a new fic, a part two so to speak, that follows Wingdings as he reconnects with family and friends and learns to navigate his new life. Plus healing, as well as his mental health and trauma from the void. Maybe romance??? idk. A wholesome slice-of-life thing, much lighter in tone. I have scenes in my head already.

Thank you again. I have a surprise in store, so please don't unsubscribe just yet. ;)

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#undertale #rift #riftfic #ut #undertale fanfic #undertale fanart #chapter 17 #epilogue #the end #sans #frisk #wingdings gaster #wd gaster #gaster #asgore #thank you #i can't say that enough #8th anniversary #undertale anniversary

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ryuichirou · 2 months

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Replies

A lot of replies! A bunch about a Florid Prison Warden AU comic from yesterday, a couple about other fandoms, one about antis, a bunch of shippy stuff (Falena/Leona, Lilia/Silver), some spicy stuff etc.

Anonymous asked:

Prison Warden au is back!

Yes!! After almost a year... I am amazed that so many people remember this AU. Thank you...

Anonymous asked:

How long can Floyd possibly hide Riddle in his cell? Also, how did he knock him out to begin with?

Riddle is currently far away from the prison, he was knocked out pretty much for the entirety of Floyd’s escape and has no idea where he is. He is technically in a cell right now... but in a different kind of cell.

Knocking him out wasn’t that difficult, Floyd just went ahead and squeezed him very tightly~ Until Goldfishie fell asleep...

Anonymous asked:

So what will they do to Riddle now?

Anonymous asked:

So Riddle got kidnapped after Floyd escape? Now I wonder what happened.

Well, for now Riddle will stay at an undisclosed location in the middle of nowhere in some dark room, and Floyd will have to take care of him. How the turns have tabled, eh? Now Goldfishie is the one being locked up <3 These two will have a lot of fun during Riddle’s stay! And Riddle is going to end up being traumatised for sure...

But they probably won’t be able to keep him there forever, so who knows what will happen next?

Anonymous asked:

You have made Sukufushi art before??? Omg why was I not aware of this

Hehe yes!! It was ages ago, but I used to draw these two a lot. We didn’t post the majority of my jjk sketches though because we didn’t really post very often back then + didn’t think anyone really wanted to see them, which was kind of true lol

Anonymous asked:

I'm the one who asked about Bobobo. It's a very silly, nonsensical, random show. An evil empire is trying to make everyone bald and a man fights them with his armpit and nose hair. There's also a guy who fights with farts. It's been awhile since I watched it but I think there were a few serious, dark moments, though most of it's a lead up to a joke. I wondered if you and Katsu would like it cause the reason I watched Gintama was cause it reminded me of it and iirc you've Gintama

Oh god, so it’s this kind of show (in a good way)!

Dark and heavy moments that are a lead up to a joke is honestly one of my favourite ways to treat comedy+drama, this is why we love Gintama so much (and also Osomatsu-san and also South Park lol). Bobobo really does sound like it has this same vibe.

I don’t know if we’ll watch it anytime soon, but I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Thank you, Anon!

Anonymous asked:

Regarding the sneezing HCs, do you think Malleus will spit fire and roast everything in front of him when he sneezes? Bro has pretty bad control over his magic after all LMAO

YES. THIS IS SUCH A GOOD POINT AND I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.

Hoo boy, just imagine Malleus feeling like he is about to sneeze and Lilia running from the other side of the dorm to grab his nose because he knows it never ends well.

Anonymous asked:

About the response talking about antis, yeah it's hard for me to look for fics and fanart because I'll often run into antis...

I feel like part of it might be that they don't look at who a game is for or what genre it is apart from RPG/visual novel/ect, I don't think they know what joseimuke is (and I'm a still lil confused on the target audience of those as well, but I think it's mainly women with a disposable income?) and they think the target audience's age = casts' age, so since the cast is teens, then it's for teens by their logic...even though shows like South Park exist and I ain't showing that to a young kid.

I'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt that they genuinely think they're helping people/doing good things/ect since a lot of them aren't adults, but I can't. I just can't get that impression from them at all. The "nicest" I can be towards them is that they're young and dumb and will hopefully grow out of it or they need therapy but can't get it for some reason and this a kind of cry for help

Let’s be honest: if they weren’t dicks about it, no one would even care. We all understand that people don’t like some things, and all of us don’t like certain categories of people in our own fandoms, this is just a human experience. Minding your own business is what matters, and this is what they can’t do.

The majority of them are young and dumb, and a lot of them will grow out of it (or switch their aggression elsewhere because they’ll lost interest in fandom stuff) though. Some won’t, but there always are immature people that are much older... this is where they’re coming from lol

Maybe some of them really do believe that they’re doing the right thing and genuinely don’t know better, but I think for a lot of them finding a convincing enough reason to shit on others is the entire point of fandom experience. So even knowing what joseimuke is won’t stop them, only them losing interest and moving away from these spaces will.

All we can do is shrug and wait... and block people left and right lol

Anonymous asked:

What kind of hentais does Idia read or know of? Does he play eroges? If so what kind?

I think Idia knows every single hentai there is, even if he hadn’t read/watched/played all of them. Alright, maybe not every single one, but quite a lot lol But at the same time, he strikes me as someone who would be into it art-wise and would legit watch porn for the plot. So his favourite eroges are the ones with engaging stories and good character writing... I guess asking for that from a hentai game is a tall order, but Idia would argue and rant about some of his favourite titles if he was told “it’s just porn”. It’s not just porn, it’s an entire experience, the buildup that makes the porn good!

I know a part of me wants to say that he would play “oniichan” kinds of games, but I think he would ironically stay away from those... it feels weird to him somehow... too embarrassing.

He also doesn’t mind really fucked up tropes and scenarios. He could look at a tentacle hypnosis scene or a scene where someone is pushing out an alien egg and say “heh classic”. Truly, the greatest enjoyer of art.

Anonymous asked:

Hello! So I’ve been wondering of all the TWST tops, who’s winning the girth-and-length off?

Personally it could go either for Jack, Rook or Sebek. the Octatrio kind of cheats tho? their merform could pull these off easily.

anyway very curious to hear your thoughts!

Anon, this is such a good answer and I agree with you, even though I did write a post about peen sizes at some point, and I had a bit of a different top3 lol

To us, the winner is Lilia both because we are very committed to this joke + apparently for bats dick-to-body proportions are insane, so I guess there is some meat (heh) to this joke after all.

The second one was Floyd, and I still think the Tweels are one of the hugest, but... Jack and Sebek are absolutely up there, and I think they’ll grow bigger and girthier. They’ll become the biggest ones in a year or two.

I agree that Rook is big, but I think Trey is longer than Rook while still being quite girthy.

I am also 100% sure Yana has a list for this that we will never see...

Anonymous asked:

Firstly, I’m new to your blog and I LOVE YOUR ART AND HCS SO MUCH! They’re beautiful and amazing and it’s incredible seeing a blog being so unabashedly problematic with no shame!

That aside, I’m not sure if you ever talked about him before, but what do you think about Falena. Specifically for Falena/Leona?

I’ve seen some works (all super incredible, of course) of Faleleo stuff in Leona’s perspective, so I was wondering how do you think Falena would be like in the situation he’s loving his little brother a bit too much? We all know Leona’s gonna be a tsun about it but what about niisan?

Anon! First of all, welcome and I hope you enjoy your stay. Second of all, thank you so much for appreciating our stuff and being supportive of our self-indulgent selves! lol

We love Falena/Leona in theory; we haven’t dived into them because we haven’t seen much of Falena + don’t care much for Leona. Still, we are 100% supportive of this ship! Every time we rewatch The Lion King, I get more and more into Mufasa/Scar...

Regarding your question, it’s interesting because I think the default really is to think that it’s Leona who is obsessive over Falena, and Falena might not even have a clue about it (or have a clue but still choose to be a proper future king instead of fooling around with Leona). But it’s entirely possible for him to also be very into Leona, it could even be more fun this way.

I feel like Falena has always been an adoring brother and Leona greatly underestimates just how much Falena loves him. Not only he worries about his future and cares about him (that’s a given), he also is genuinely impressed by his wit and intelligence; I wouldn’t be surprised if Falena talks about Leona all the time lol Maybe he gets as excited as Cheka sometimes, which is endearing at first, but then feels like Falena is um... a bit too much into him...

Falena also feels like someone who would rationalise his feeling by thinking that him being a king and having a wife and a son is one thing, but being with Leona is another thing, their private special thing that could actually still improve things for the entire Kingdom: if Leona is by his side and works together with him, they will be unstoppable. This is something that Falena wants the most... even if it’s just a way to justify his desire to have access to Leona (and his body) all the time. He needs to give Leona some attention, right? He wasn’t able to do it lately, right? This has to change.

I also wouldn’t be surprised if they had a bunch of “iffy” moments when they were younger. A sudden closeness during sparring, a hug that lasted longer than anticipated, a bite that was meant to be playfully teasing but ended up being too sensual and dominating. That tension existed for a very long time, and it only gets stronger with time.

Anonymous asked:

God... I am enraptured by Them. Completely obsessed with those first days Lilia started playing with Silver. You think he went slow with touches and inappropriate kisses, or just one day told him they're doing something new and put his whole dick inside him at once??? Silver couldn't have gotten so good at handling anything without trial and error... Have there been times Lilia overestimated him and left him overwhelmed and SOBBING sobbing, like he had to stop immediately or his kid wouldn't be the same person again kind of overwhelmed. Ughhhh I'm obsessed with them and their awful history

Anon, I am so happy you like these two this much. I feel like this awful history is such an obvious but tasty and amazingly working trope for them, it just works.

I guess it’s fair to say that Lilia went slow with his inappropriate behaviour, I honestly think that Silver didn’t even notice the switch, as if it was never there. He’s always been his father’s cute boy. Of course it’s just the way he remembers things... But he does remember the first time he had Lilia’s whole dick inside him!

But also yes, of course there had been a bunch of times when Lilia got too excited and overdid it with Silver. Even though Lilia did try to pace himself, I think he completely broke Silver all over like 10 times; and sometimes he is amazed that he turned out okay with what he went through. But he got better very fast! A miracle of true love <3

#replies #prison warden au #lilisil

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agaypanic · 1 year

Note

If this request motivates you at all-

Can we get a friends to lovers (?) with Michael Kelso x gn!reader where it’s like that scene where Jackie finds out that Hyde cheated on her, but instead of Jackie it’s reader. Later on Kelso finds reader trying to cry in silence, so he decides to try and cheer them up in his own himbo way.

The Playboy's Comfort (Michael Kelso X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: When you found out that Hyde cheated on you, you were left destroyed. When you need some help, you’re surprised by how comforting Kelso can be.

***

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you first started dating Steven. You knew about the alcoholic mom, the abandonment issues, all the things he tried to make unknown or seem unimportant by covering it with aloofness and weed.

But it was all so worth it once you got him to open up, past a friend level. He was sweet, in his own rough way. He let you wear his band shirts, saying so people knew you were his. But really, he just loved seeing you in his clothes. Your designated spot in the basement went from the end of the couch to his lap, because according to him, the view of the TV was better. But you knew it was because he liked being close to you. And you always sat in the passenger seat of his El Camino, even if someone else called shotgun. Everything felt perfect, except for one thing.

Steven seemed to have a problem with you and Kelso hanging out. It was fine if the whole gang was around, because then Steven could smack Kelso if he tried anything. You didn’t really understand the jealousy. Even though Kelso was always flirty, you two were just friends. But you just dealt with it. It was a little difficult, considering you and Kelso were close friends before you even started dating Steven, but you just went along with it. You didn’t want to start a fight over Kelso, of all people.

You were alone in the basement, waiting for your boyfriend to come home. He was working at the hotel during some kind of nurse convention. You both knew he’d be busy with it for the next few days, so he promised he would come home for his lunch break to spend time with you today. You were excited. Even though he made decent money from working in the kitchen, you saw him less than you used to. But today, he was stopping by the Hub, and you two would be enjoying crappy and greasy food soon.

“Oh, thank god you’re here.” A voice wept as someone busted open the door to the basement. It surprised you to see Kelso looking distressed. “You’ll never believe what just happened.”

“Kelso, are you okay?” You set the random comic you were reading down just in time for him to launch himself onto the couch, head in your lap. He curled up, looking scared. “What happened?”

He sighed, building up the courage to tell you what he just experienced. He mumbled something into your thigh.

“Say that again. I didn’t hear you.”

“... Fez had a sexy dream about me.”

You had to stop yourself from laughing. The sentence was so ridiculous, yet so believable.

“Oh?” That was all you could say without breaking down giggling.

“He said I was sponge-bathing him in a nurse’s outfit.” You exhaled through your nose to calm yourself down. But when you looked down, all amusement left. Kelso seemed genuinely traumatized. You sighed, combing a hand through his hair, which seemed to calm him down a bit. “Promise you won’t tell anyone. Especially Hyde. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Kelso, it’s not that bad.”

“Y/n., I’m serious.” You rolled your eyes, but you supposed he had a point. Steven would hold this over Kelso’s head forever.

“Okay, fine. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Especially Hyde.” You continued stroking his hair.

“You’re the best, Y/n.”

***

It was the next day. You hadn’t seen Steven at all. He missed lunch with you yesterday and you never heard anything about a reschedule. But you knew that he was working today, so you decided to stop by. Maybe work was so hectic that he had forgotten that he was supposed to meet you for lunch. If all the nurses were like Kitty when she got a drink in her hand, you’d understand him missing your little get-together.

You went to the back of the hotel, where the staff parked. You knew he was here because you saw his El Camino in his favorite spot. God, how you loved that car.

You walked to the back door, about to open it, when it almost hit you in the face. You took a quick step back and saw Steven. His chef coat was balled up in his hands, and he was wearing his sunglasses. He looked surprised to see you.

“Hey.” He was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Hey, Steven. You missed our little lunch date and I haven’t really seen you, so I wanted to check on you. Are you on your break?”

“Uh, yeah, I am. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, okay. Wanna sit in your car?”

“Sure.” The two sat in the El Camino. You could sense something was wrong with Steven, but you couldn’t think of what it could be.

“So…” You dragged the word out. Not getting the hint that you were waiting for him to talk, you got to the point. “What did you wanna talk to me about?”

He took a deep breath and took off his glasses. His eyes were red. But not the kind of red they would get after being in the circle. More glassy-eyed.

“I saw you with Kelso yesterday. And I heard you two talk about keeping a secret.” You thought back to yesterday and went through the conversation you had with Kelso. You suddenly realized that from an outside perspective, especially Steven’s perspective, that conversation could have been about something different.

“Steven, I swear, it’s not what you think.”

“I know.”

“Kelso was really freaked out about something, but he didn’t want me to tell anyone about it because it was really embarrassing for him.”

“I know.”

“But I promise, Steven, nothing is going on between us.”

“Y/n.” Steven’s voice was stern, but still soft. “I know. But…”

“But what?”

“I found out earlier today. But before I did, I was really angry.” He paused, sighing. “There was this nurse.”

You didn’t like where this was going. At all.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t even say it, but you knew exactly what happened.

“How could you, Hyde?”

He was taken aback by the sudden name change.

“Hyde?” Ever since you first started dating, you always called him Steven when you weren’t calling him some silly or sickly sweet nickname. Even when you two were fighting, you didn’t call him by his last name. “Wait, no. Y/n, please.”

“I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

“No, Y/n, it’ll never happen again. I promise.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” He didn’t have an answer for that. You needed to get out of here. You suddenly hated being in his car. You hated the shirt of his that you were wearing. You hated him. “We’re done, Hyde.”

He reached for you as you opened the door.

“Baby, please.”

“Don’t.” There was finality and pain in your tone. His hand slowly drew back, and he let you leave.

***

A breakup was always hard. But this was more than that. Hyde was one of your first friends, you knew each other for over ten years. Dating him just deepened your bond. But now that was all shattered.

When you got home, you packed up all the things that Hyde had given you over the past year. You put on a sweater and threw the Led Zeppelin shirt you were wearing into the box, along with other little trinkets. Now all you had to do was give it to him. But you didn’t want to see Hyde. You couldn’t even bring yourself to go to the Forman’s house right now because you knew he’d be there.

So, you called Kelso.

Sure, he was part of the reason that led to you and Hyde breaking up. But he was still one of your closest friends. Plus, you knew everyone else was either busy or didn’t have a car.

“Thanks for helping me with this, Kelso.” You said, handing the box to him. He put it in his van and looked at you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“It’s the least I could do. I feel really bad about being the reason you two broke up.”

“Oh, no, it’s not your fault.” He gave you a knowing look, which was weird because he wasn’t really aware of anything. “Okay, maybe a little. But he cheated on me because of an assumption.” God, you couldn’t even say Hyde’s name out loud.

“Well, getting rid of his stuff will help you get over him. Really drives home the point that you’re over. If Jackie did that the first time we broke up, we wouldn’t have gotten back together so many times.” You couldn’t help but snort.

“Yeah, that’s why you kept getting back together.”

“What can I say? People can’t get enough of me.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Feeling tired of standing, you sat on the floor of Kelso’s van. He sat next to you, drumming up a beat on his thighs with his hands. You looked behind you, to the box of Hyde’s things. It used to be yours and Hyde’s. Now it’s just Hyde’s.

Kelso was right. You and Hyde were really over.

“Oh, geez. Come here.” Kelso sighed, putting an arm around your shoulders to hug you. You didn’t even realize you were crying. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“But what if it’s not?” You sniffled. “I’ll still have to see him all the time. We’ve had the same friends since we were like seven. I’ll have to look at his stupid face and keep thinking about what he did.”

“I could beat him up if you want.” You laughed, despite the tears that kept coming.

“Kelso, I don’t think you’d get very far. You’ll come back with a black eye.”

“Yeah, probably. But it’d be worth it.” He rested his head on yours. “I really am sorry, Y/n.”

“I just wanna feel better.” Kelso hummed like he was thinking of something. He suddenly sat up straight, eyes darting to the box behind him before looking at you.

“I have an idea.”

***

“I don’t know about this Kelso, it’s still his stuff.”

“He cheated on you, Y/n!”

“You cheated on Jackie multiple times. I don’t exactly think you have the moral high ground on this.”

Kelso had taken you to Mount Hump. At first, you were threatening to jump out of the van, because how could he try to take advantage of you while you’re so vulnerable? But then he explained his idea on how to get you past Hyde and the breakup.

Throw everything he gave you off a mountain.

“Come on, Y/n, it’ll make you feel good.” Kelso set the box down on the ground and looked through it. He pulled out a bracelet and handed it to you.

“Aw.” You fiddled around with the bracelet before looking up at Kelso, who was waiting for you to do something. “I dragged Hyde to the mall one time, and I saw this bracelet in the window at some snooty shop. But I couldn’t afford it. Later that day, he pulled it out and put it on me. Apparently, when I was trying some clothes on, he went back to the store and swiped it for me.” It was one of the sweetest things he had given you, even though he stole it.

You threw it as hard as you could.

“Give me something else.”

“That’s the spirit!” Kelso handed you something else from the box. Not even looking at it, you threw it.

Soon enough, the box was empty, and you and Kelso were looking at the view.

“You know, it’s kinda weird to see something besides a bunch of panties here. But you were right, it did make me feel better.” You turned to Kelso and went up on your toes to hug him. “Thank you, Kelso.”

“No problem.” The squeezing hug he gave you felt so comforting, like he was taking the last of the hurt out of you. You heard him take a deep breath, and then he kissed the side of your head. Confused by the affection, you pulled away slightly. He looked a little startled, like he was scared about what you’d do next.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know.” He answered quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He nodded. You didn’t really want to have a rebound this soon, especially with Kelso being that rebound. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t like the affection.

“Um… wanna get something to eat?”

“I’d like that.”

#michael kelso x reader #michael kelso #that 70s show #that 70s show x reader #agaypanic

177 notes · View notes

steviewashere · 10 months

Text

I Am Vulnerable and I Am Wanting

(also on ao3)

wc: 1,864, Steddie Tags: Post Vecna, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Post-Argument, Making Up, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dialogue Light, Steve has Shit Parents, Kind of a Character Study

(For the full list of tags, they're available on ao3. Rated T for implied/referenced drug use and implied/referenced sex. Drug use is in Eddie's backstory, just as a forewarning).

--------

Steve Harrington is a lover. That's his first trait. That's the first thing to catalogue about somebody like him. It's odd, though.

He wasn't very well liked until high school. Parents feigning interest in what he did—only caring if it somehow bettered their last name, if it got him to college, if it made him either successful or intelligent enough to enter the family business. His friends in elementary and middle school weren't the kindest and often left him out of activities. So, oftentimes, Steve was alone.

Lonely and young and tenderly emotional. However, he'd been raised to not show that. To show instead, that he could handle being left behind, being forgotten on the starting line, that he actually wanted to move on to greener pasture.

Splitting relationships always was difficult for him to grasp. To come to terms with. Which is why it was so hard to say goodbye to Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan and the loyalty they served to Steve for several years. But it was always supposed to end, one way or another. That was practically shown to him in the stars. That he'd end up lonely all over again.

And then college didn't happen. And already, for years at this point, his parents weren't in the house to comfort him or lift him up or care for him. When they were, it was to belittle and scoff and ignore.

So, even his own parents wanted nothing to do with him. If they could distance themselves, they would find the way. And if they couldn't, they'd force him to find the solution. Getting a job. Leaving the house for hours on end—whether he drove around town in an endless loop or hooked up with a good amount of the Hawkins' ladies population or spent money as if it was never real to him—they never cared.

Despite this, despite all of this, Steve loves first. Falls hard. Finds it difficult to get angry or vengeful or upset at somebody. Lest they leave him too.

On the other hand, Eddie Munson is practically a rabid dog. Sure, he can love. Had known that at one point. Was fed and dressed and given a bed. But, when it comes down to it, there was nothing for him.

His parents were drug addicts and convicted criminals. They left him in the backseat of a car as they made deals—driving around empty streets with a "friend" in the passenger seat, laughing loud and obnoxious. Made him restless and itchy, but he didn't fall asleep until early the next day. Food was scarce, so he learned the sleight of hand trick, how to bat his doe-like eyes, be small and fast and strong when it counts—all for a crumb, for a measly meal, for something to tide him over until his parents could actually be there.

But then Wayne happened like a sudden summer storm. Wrapping him in cotton sheets and heavy coats and warm things. Gave him his own room. Made hot meals on the stove and let Eddie pick out his own mugs to add to the growing collection. Went out for fishing trips and days out in Indianapolis where the record shops were plentiful and the comic book scene was bumping.

Though, Eddie has not learned when to stop growling. A person's hand could be soft and slow and tentative as it reaches out to him, but he bites back. Makes himself bigger and scarier and meaner. Climbing on top of surfaces to drape shadows over everybody else. Big speeches about non-conforming tactics and what conformity really was. Learned to lie and steal and be secretive.

Learned how to hurt others.

Which leads to the current day. A late evening in the middle of October. The two of them in a standoff in the Harrington's living room. It had been a jovial night. Laughing back and forth. Watching stupid movies, stolen from the return bit at Family Video. Ate greasy pizza and poured each other glasses of Dr. Pepper.

But, somewhere in the conversation, words turned sharp. Cutting their skin. Opening wounds from high school, shearing hair, and plucking teeth from gums.

It doesn't matter how the argument started. Not at all. All Steve knows is that the words hurt and what Eddie was saying wasn't incorrect. In fact, it was some sort of blanket statement about how much of a douchebag Steve had been, him and his jock friends and his love for sports, something along the lines of his stupid ego and his preppy clothes and his empty head, a sentence about his lack of interesting hobbies. Something meant to hurt.

And hurt it did. Climbed all the way under Steve's abdomen, into his ribcage, squeezing between his muscles, and nestling itself against his pulsating stomach. He feels nauseous and off kilter. And Eddie is standing there, staring him down, looming. He's got wide eyes and a snarl and a scrunch to his bulbous nose. Squared shoulders and tensed legs and bent, crooked, claw-like fingers.

He's saying something. Lots of things, really. Insulting words. Harsh comments. Poking and prodding and poking and prodding. Clawing at Steve. Marking him. Flaying him.

And Steve is too tired for words. To muster a response. So he slumps into himself. Curling over his own legs, wrapping his hands in one another, letting his hair droop down and shade his eyes. Hoping that maybe resignation is what Eddie is looking for, maybe to be proven right. That's what Steve's parents always wanted. For Steve to feel small and insignificant and terribly sorry for his own existence.

He's just tired of being the people pleaser. Of loving and getting nothing in return.

Really, but maybe unrealistically, Steve thought that his relationship with Eddie was it. That this thing they have going, this wonderful and beautiful and passionate and romantic thing—stretching between May to now, covered in wet kisses and reverent caresses and sex that leaves him sore like a jog would've—that it was the big ending, a miracle ending, that he'd been searching for. For forever ago. At one point in Nancy. Then tried through every girl in town. Robin before the bathroom.

He thought that—What did he think? Why does he always get his hopes up? This never goes well. He always gives and gives and bleeds and pukes and lets himself be laid out and vulnerable. And here the other person is, taking and taking and taking—sucking the life out of him, leaving him as a rag-doll carcass on his own bed. And he always allows it. Because to be loved for even thirty minutes is enough, or it has been.

Until now. He's not ready for this to end. He's not ready for Eddie to leave. He's not ready to crawl back to meaningless hookups and traded sex for a notch in the reputation ladder.

So when Eddie says, "I'm going home, this isn't working," Steve says nothing in return. He's tired of begging for people to stay and love him. That never, never works out for him. They stay back for just a little while longer, growing despondent and miserably bored—meanwhile, Steve is still madly in love, delivering all that he can, giving what he thinks will keep them close. But it always blows up. And sex becomes just sex. Kissing is just a gateway to conversation endings. The heartbreak hurts worse the second time.

It always hurts. But if he lets Eddie leave now, then it won't be as bad, right? If this is what Eddie wants, then Steve provides. Because this is for his boyfriend's wellbeing, not his, and he still loves him regardless.

Regardless of the fact that he can feel his chest collapse. That his mouth grows moist. His eyes burning and sinking back into his skull.

It doesn't help that he sobs when Eddie begins to turn away. He's never cried like this before. When the other person leaves. He always keeps his cool. He always waits until they're well and truly gone before he breaks down. But not today. Because Steve can't be normal about the love and adoration he holds for Eddie. There's no way to be normal about somebody so significant and vibrant and lovely as Eddie Munson—not in any universe, not in any moment in the passing of time.

But the front door doesn't slam shut. In fact, Eddie's presence is still somewhere in front of him. His warmth radiating into the room all too sudden against the harsh coldness that pumps through Steve's body.

Eddie flitters for a moment before hesitantly stepping forward, coming closer and closer to the couch until his knees hit the cushion. And then, he's sitting down on the coffee table, legs bunched up and leaning against Steve's own. His hands creep from his lap and around Steve's wrists, gently prying his palms away from where they're grinding into his eye sockets.

"Baby," he whispers. Steve trembles. "Baby, honey, look at me," he pleads. And then, Eddie's drowning in molten honey-brown eyes. They're shining and silently begging and all too terribly sad. "I was going home to cool off. I'm not—Leaving you isn't an option to me, okay?"

And it feels odd, for a moment, that Steve's vulnerability is met. That it's realized and acknowledged and carefully responded to. But it makes sense, with Eddie, that he'd do something like this. Because he's the first to notice when something makes Steve moan loud in bed—he's the one to play with that new nugget of information, to really milk it until there's nothing more to pull from.

Everything with Eddie is different and bigger than Steve has ever encountered. And it overwhelms him even more. As he cries louder and heavier. As he chokes on his own saliva and hot breath. Even when Eddie draws in close and brings his head down between his shoulder and neck. Rocking him from side to side, humming close in his bad ear, sliding his fingers over Steve's spine and into his hair and massaging his scalp.

"Not leaving," Eddie whispers into Steve's ear. "Not with you. Never with you." He hums some more, loose notes and songs that don't quite make sense. Things that don't follow a good melody, but vibrate through Steve's skull. "I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean a single bit of it." He kisses the side of Steve's head, lips lingering where he pressed.

The next words are murmured, mapped out against Steve's hairline.

"I love you, Steve. Besting thing that ever happened to me. My beautiful baby boy."

Later that night—when Eddie chooses to stay and carefully cuddle in Steve's bed, skin bare against each other's, hair tickling and tangling with one another on the same shared pillow, fingers linking between their heated bodies—Eddie kisses him gently on the lips.

And as he pulls away, a soft, wet pop audible in the room, Steve whispers back, "I love you, too."

The first sentimental "I love you" that eventually leads to thousands, millions, trillions of never missed opportunities in the future.

#stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #post season 4 #post canon #angst and hurt/comfort #arguments and making up #character study #cliche ending #but what are you gonna do about it

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